Daughter Of The Don
by French Pop
Summary: Part 2 of Vercetti's Pet. Moda, literally a fallen angel, warms Tommy's heart and continues to bring him joy as his officially adopted daughter. But will she still be his baby girl when "certain others" try to interfere with their father-daughterness?
1. Daughter Of The Don

Vercetti's Pet The Sequel: Daughter Of The Don 

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A/N: Hey! It's me again, so yeah I did decide to archive this volume as a different story, you know, as a sequel, something I'd never imagine myself writing. If you enjoyed "Vercetti's Pet" then this is where it continues. If you haven't read it, I highly suggest you do so. Not that you'll be entirely lost in THIS story if you don't but you'll be left asking questions...a lot of questions...a lot of DUMB questions.

As for my supporters in my other story, thank you so much I don't think I'd have enough interest to continue without your support and encouragement. Seriously...

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Chapter 1: Daughter Of The Don

"_Ole_!" the Cubans in the cafe cheered loudly. "_Salud_!" Umberto wanted to say something as well but needed everyone's undivided attention to do so.

"Okay, okay..._sientense_ amigos..." (A/N: "sit down") There was still cheering and drunken laughter. "_Escuhame_! Hey!" (A/N: "listen to me!") Umberto shouted. Fed up, he grabbed his beer bottle by the neck and smashed it against the wall. It shattered leaving beer and tiny, bronze, beer-bottle shards on the wall and the floor nearby. "I said _callate_ you bunch of _putos_!" (A/N: "shut up" and if you didn't know "bitches")

The room was silent. Umberto cleared his throat and put on a happy face again.

"I'd like to propose a toast..." he said.

"With what? You just slammed your drink onto the wall!" shouted an anonymous Cuban gang member.

"Shut up! Anyways, a toast..." everyone in the room held up their drinks again except Moda and Claude who weren't thirsty anyway. "To my brother...who is also like a son to me..."

"Twiiiiisted..." Moda muttered sing-song. (A/N: like if you were to say "awk-warrrrd...")

"To the man with the biggest of alllllll _cojones_!" everyone cheered. "and to his beautiful new _hija_ who has brightened his and our days! _Ole_'!"

"_Ole'_!" everyone shouted.

From that time till near two in the morning, there was eating, drinking (except for Moda and Claude), cheering and joke-making. Almost everyone was either full, drunk or some intricate combination of the two but everyone was happy but none more than Tommy Vercetti.

The three, tired of partying and stuffing their faces, exited the restaurant. However, Tommy was very unstable so Moda and Claude had to help carry him outside.

"Tommy...hand me the keys, I'm driving tonight." Moda said.

"Noooo, I'm fiiiiiine, I can driiiiiiiive..." Tommy said searching for his keys. "Oh, herrre they are..."

"Uh-uh, you ain't in no kinda shape to drive now gimme the keys." she reached for Tommy's hand but he pulled them away. Soon they were playing a small keep away game until Moda was finally able to snatch them away from her drunken father.

"Claude, help him into the car, pretty-please?" Moda requested from her bodyguard.

Claude looked around and shrugged his shoulders. Moda noticed as well. The Cuban Hermes was nowhere to be found.

"Son of a bitch..." Moda whispered. 'Haitains most likely...' she thought.

"Don' currrrrse, kid..." Tommy said then dozed off into a drunken sleep.

"Well, Claude...We may have a bit of walking to do." Claude nodded and the two put each of Tommy's arms around their shoulders and started walking. "Sunshine Autos is just around the corner from here, we can get another car from there and drive home." she said.

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Sunshine Autos (2:49am)

After about forty-five minutes of walking, the kids, fatigued and ever so ready to crash, finally reached the Sunshine Autos car showroom owned by yours truly.

"We're...here..." Moda said, panting. They walked into the building. Moda ran to the nearest couch and plopped down on the cushion. Strangely, Claude (whose head was hanging down) was still shuffling along the floor carrying Vercetti.

"Claude, you can put him down now..." Moda said.

(silence)

"Claude?" she got up and walked over to the young boy who was actually sleeping. 'This is weird, he's knocked out but he's still walking. Could he have fallen asleep on the way over here?' she thought. She used her arm to guide the sleepwalker and her father to the couch she was resting on. She opened the car doors to thecanary-yellow Sentinelin the showroom and shoved Tommy inside, face-down on the leather seats. Suprisingly, he didn't stir.

She laid Claude upright on the two-seater couch while she sat down. Eventually, she dozed off.

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Morning...(about 10am)

Tommy opened his eyes halfway but they shot open after he realized that he was in the back of a car. He raised up, wiped the drool (both wet and dried) from his chin and got out the car rubbing his temples to ease him of a minor hangover.

"The hell? How'd I end up at Sunshine Autos?" he questioned himself. His eye caught the couch where his daughter and...um...nephew were still sleeping. His face twitched at the posistion they were laying in. Claude was laying down while Moda was sitting upright with Claude's head resting...face up...in her lap. Tommy felt his skin turn white and his eyes turn red as he marched to the front door of the Sentinel and blasted the car horn.

HONK! HOOOOOOONK!

Moda jumped up causing Claude to fall off the couch and onto the cold, hard, floor. Moda looked around frantically, not remember where she was for a split second then saw Tommy leaning against the car with a mean look on his face.

"Was that_really_ necessary!" she yelled.

"Was it _really_ necessary for Claude to have his face buried in the muff of your shorts all night, huh!" Tommy shouted back, his face turning red. He walked up to Claude (who hadn't even stirred despite being dropped on the floor) and kicked him inthe arm. He groaned and sat up rubbing the bruised spot and frowning.

"Yeah..." Tommy said menacingly to Claude. "I'm _on _to you..."

Moda ran to Claude's side and helped him off the ground, scowling at Tommy.

"For your information, _pops_..." she seethed. "YOU were hung up on Tequila all night and morning and the Haitains had stolen our ride home!"

Tommy stood and listened carefully.

"So you can _thank _Claude for helping me carry you from the cafe' all the way here!"

Tommy looked at the kids and blinked his eyes a few times. He looked from Claude, whose eyebrows were almost touching his cheeks because he was frowning so much and then to his daughter, whose fat cheeks were red from yelling and face turned up in frustration as well. Tommy rolled his eyes and sighed.

"ThankyouClaude..." he hung his head down and muttered almost inaudibly.

"What?" Moda questioned with her hand by her ear.

"Thank...you...Claude..." Tommy said through clenched teach a little more clearer. He looked at Moda who nodded accepting his bogus thank you on Claude's behalf.

"Good, now let's get the hell out of here!" Vercetti threw his handsin the air.

"Okay, but I'm driving!" Moda said. "I don't trust that you're 100 sober yet..."

"FINE." Tommy sighed.

"And we're taking the Deluxo!" Moda smiled. Claude's eyes lit up as well and ran to the passenger seat of the never-been-driven, pine-green car as if to say 'Shotgun!'.

"W-what? Not the Deluxo, kid! I just got it!" Tommy cried.

"...so?" she asked.

" 'SO!' If you wreck it, I won't be able to get a new one until next month!"

"Um, there is a little spot not only underground but in four other locations in Vice City...It's called the 'Pay n Spray'?"

"You don't understand, kid! This is a limited-edition model! Do you know how long it takes..." Tommy trailed off into a lecture that Moda was not paying any mind to. She dug in the desk drawer for the keys to the car and walked up to it, opening the door and unlocking the other side for Claude. They both got in and Tommy who was still lecturing was not aware that the kids had gotten into the car until she started the engine and honked the horn. He scrambled to the car and managed to cram himself in the tiny backseat of the car.

"Whoooooo-hoooooooo! I've been wanting to drive this boy for months!" Moda squealed, turning up the volume on one of her favorite Vice City radio stations: Fever 105.

"Hey, turn the music down, I gotta headahce!" Tommy whined.

"Sorry, can't hear ya!" Moda pretended to ignore his plea and drove out the showroom through the glass window.

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Vercetti Estate

(10:40-something am)

"Oh God, it feels so good to be home..." Moda said, heading up to her room.

"Hold on, kid..." Tommy said and Moda froze in her place. "C'mere..." He said. He looked at Claude who got the hint and went off into the bushes. He had to pee anyway...

"Yeah?" she said, watching Claude retreat then turning back to Tommy who had sandwiched her into a wholesome, hearty hug.

"Welcome to the family, kid..." he said softly. She hugged him back.

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How was that for a first chapter? Okay, I hope. Well, you know the drill!


	2. Moda Gets an Allowance

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Chapter 2:A Little Trendy

(the day after the day after the party: 8:00am)

"Kid...kid...wake up..." Vercetti said as he tapped Moda hard on her shoulder. She groaned, refusing to stir so he stopped for a moment. 'God, she's like...a fucking angel...' he thought then tried to wake her again. "Get up, kid!"

Moda's eyes flashed open and stared hard at him. "WHAT?" she asked, releasing her harsh morning breath into the air. Tommy waved his hand around.

"Woof! Am I s'posed to be able to smell that all the way over here?" he asked sarcastically. She exhaled buried herself in the covers again then Tommy started walking away. "Well, I suppose if you don't want a little allowance...okay..."

Moda immediately sat up, eyes wide, bright and full of sleep crust in the corners. She grinned. "Allowance?"

"Yeah, seeing as how I have to 'work' today and I didn't want you to be bored but...never mind..." he said.

"Nonononono! That's okay, I am going to be bored so can I have the cash?"

"Alright..." Tommy dug in the pocket of his jeans and fished out $2000 in cash. He gave it to his 'angel'. She smiled, hugged and thanked Tommy. "Treat yourself to new gun, kid..." he smirked then exited the room.

Tommy went downstairs to exit the house but on the way, he stopped in the den (A/N: the room to the far right as soon as you go in the house) to find Claude asleep on the couch, using his jacket as a blanket. He snatched it off and threw the jacket in his face, waking him from another peaceful sleep. Claude wrestled against the jacket to remove it from his face to find Tommy kneeling above him.

"Get up! Moda's going shopping today so make sure you do your job, punk..." he said. Claude rolled his eyes and watched Vercetti exit the house from the couch. Following orders, he got up, stretched a little, then decided to explore the house a little in search of the nearest bathroom.

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Moda was in her bathroom, showering and pampering herself with fragrant soaps, sprays, hair products and lotions. Figuring since Tommy was gone and she paid no mind to the possibility of Claude bursting through her bedroom door, she came out the bathroom, completely nude.

She waltzed over to her walk-in closet, using several remote controls to turn on her stereo which was playing the Espantoso radio station which Tommy often listened to when they drove together so of course, she grew attatched to it as well.

"Maracaibo! Da-da-daaaaaaa-da-da..." she sang along with Beny More' as she happily picked out an outfit. She decided to be a little trendy today.

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In the meantime, Claude was distracted from his journey by the sound of authentic Spanish music. He listened closely with his ears and attempted to investigate for the source of the sound. He eventually came outside a door...Moda's door. Without knocking, he slowly pushed it open and stepped inside. He gasped loudly to see his...uncle's daughter...his new cousin...buck-naked...dancing the salsa.

Moda gasped as well and turned around sharply to see Claude standing there, wide-eyed and paralyzed. She hadn't heard him come in for the door was so new, it didn't even creak yet.

"AIEEEEEEEEE!" she screeched and began to pelt her cousin with various small objects in sight until he finally backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Still wide-eyed and shocked, lil' Claude slumped down against the wall of the hallway, a little embarrassed. Seconds later, he started laughing to himself.

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'What in the hell just happened? Did he just see me naked?" Moda thought. She took this time to finally put on some underwear and socks. She did her usual ritual of checking herself in the mirror.

Deciding to be a little more fashionable today than usual, she put on a white pleated miniskirt with thick black diagonal stripes. She put on a white, close-fitting tunic tanktop (A/N: a tunic in this case is basically like a baby tee except longer) with some thick, baggy, black leg-warmers and her black Chuck Taylor Converse sneakers. She put on a little mascara, eyeliner and blush but nothing dramatic. She tied her silky, non-poofy 80s hair into a mid side-ponytail with a pair of solid-white spheres on a black rubberband. (A/N: aka "bo-bos")

Moda, statisfied once again with her appearance, opened her bedroom door to see Claude sitting on the floor against the hallway wall still laughing to himself.

"Shut up..." she sneered. He stood up and looked at her, trying to find a way to explain himself without speaking. He got just the idea and reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a toothbrush. He waved it in Moda's face.

"So...you were just looking for a bathroom?" she asked. He looked at her apologetically trying not to burst out laughing. She smiled and pointed to the bathroom in her room, allowing him to use it.

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After about fifteen minutes, the kids were standing outside the house. Moda stood with her index finger and thumb on her chin as she pondered about which car she'd take downtown today. Eventually she chose the white Infernus despite the fact she had her own car just for this purpose. She figured it'd 'match' her ensemble so she chose it.

She started the car and drove from Starfish Island, heading downtown and trying to avoid any Haitains. They finally made it downtown and the sign of a small boutique had caught her eye. 'Marcy D's' it said. She found the nearest parking lot and thankfully it was secluded because a white Infernus was not a very common car to be seen downtown or anywhere in Vice City for that matter and everyone knew who it belonged to.

"You got two choices..." she said to Claude while getting out the car. "You can come inside and watch me shop for hours, or you can sit in this car and bake at ninety degrees because I'm taking the keys to the car and Tommy can kick yo' ass for leaving me unattended..." He thought about it for a few seconds then got out the car. At least it would be air-conditioned inside.

End Chapter

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So um...yeah, review please!


	3. Then spills the beans

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Chapter 3: Beautiful Clothes 4 Beautiful People

Moda and Claude walked into the store. Moda admired the designer clothes, jewelry, shoes and knick knacks surrounding her on shelves and racks. She slowly walked through the store with Claude following behind her, looking bored and touching the fabrics of the women's clothing.

"Can I help you?" said a female voice with a very strong Spanish accent from behind the two. They both jumped and turned around. She smiled.

"Oh, I'm just looking around..." Moda replied. The lady's smile fell. "But I do plan to _buy_ something!" she smiled which had brought the smile back to the saleswoman.

Moda stared at the saleslady. She was gorgeous. She had just-past-the-shoulder-length hair that was striking red (almost magenta)-brown and was styled and flipped in layers. She found the hairstyle unusual but it was still classy and nice. She was average height for a female, about 5"6. She had full, fuschia lips, tan skin and squinty dark brown eyes. She was wearing a hot-pink dressuit that had huge shoulder pads and sparkly gold buttons which matched the earrings, chain, and rings she had on.The lady extended her arm for a handshake.

"I'm Marcy...Marcy DeSoto..." she said and flashed a smile revealing a set of 32 pearly-whites.

"Oh, I'm Moda..." replied Moda who also smiled and shook her hand. "Moda Vercetti."

Everything on Marcy froze except the arm and hand which was moving. Claude elbowed Moda in the arm and she looked at him as if to say 'what'd I do?'.

'Why don't you tell her your shoe size and PIN number...' Claude thought. 

Marcy admired Moda as well. She was tall, slim, wasn't exactly Route 66 but still had a nice shape, and a round Bambi face. She envied the smoothness and consistency of her young, dark caramel skin while hers only _appeared_ to be perfect (thanks to the special cosmetics she used) and was getting more and more wrinkled with each passing, stressful, empty year. She also envied her for another particular reason...

Marcy came back to reality and began walking and talking. Moda and Claude took the liberty of following her.

"Here at my store, 'Marcy D's'..." she spoke, rolling her 'R's a little "Our motto is 'beautiful clothes, for beautiful people'..." she stopped and turned around.

"And you are definitely beautiful, miss..." She smiled again. "Therefore, it's only right that you should own clothes as beautiful as you, yes?"

Moda nodded in agreement. Claude just looked away.

"So...is there anything in particular you are looking for today?"

"Um...suprise me!" said Moda.

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Several hours had passed during the tour of the store. Claude was sitting in a chair almost smothered in the pile of clothes Moda continuously threw on him as she tried on outfits. She was in the dressing room and Marcy was outside the dressing room waiting to see her in another dress. For the first time since they were in the store, Marcy actually took notice of Claude. He was short, messy boyishly brown hair, big boyish brown eyes, nothing special.

"Your girlfriend?" Marcy smiled at him. Claude just shook his head. "Lemme guess, best friend's younger sister?" she asked again. She was nosy like that. Claude shook his head 'no' again. She was about to ask another question when Moda snatched the curtain from her booth. She stepped in front of the mirror, displaying the dress, shoes and jewelry she tried on. 

It was a basic halter, flowy cyan-blue dress that stopped at the knee. Nothing about it was special other than the tiny rhinestones that lined the hem of the dress. Although the bottom of it was free-flowing, it was still close-fitting and hugged every small curve of her body. She wore chandiler earrings which had rhinestones on them and a curly metal bracelet which she wore on her forearm. Claude's eyes popped and Marcy let out a silent gasp. 

"How do I look?" Moda asked, jumping up and down exitedly... 

"Like a million dollars! Do you have your daddy's credit card, Miss?" Marcy said then switched the subject. "Say, I was just asking your little friend here if you two were a couple!" 

Moda stood vexed at how forward and somewhat rude Marcy was. It wasn't her business. Her face turned up a little bit. 

"He's my cousin..." she said flatly. 

"Oh...So would that make--" 

"Well, I don't have a credit card so cash is good here, right?" she interjected. 

"Um...yes...cash is fine!" Marcy smiled. 

Moda slipped back into the dressing room to change. They went over to the register and Marcy rang up all of the clothes she had bought. She watched Moda carefully as she reached into the lining of one of her leg warmers and pulled out a stack of hundreds. 

"Wow! So much money...Your parents must have very good jobs, yes?" she smiled again. 

Sick of her smiling and inappropiate comments, Moda just stared at her and snatched her receipt. "Thanks..." she snapped. 

Marcy watched as Claude and Moda exited her store. Her phony smile slowly curled up into a evil frown. 

"Hmmm...Now that I know what you look like and I have a good idea as to who you are...Yes, we'll see what happens..." she said. 

End chapter 

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Like I said, the blended words are not my fault! Words that cometogether likethis, I don't know how or why that happens but it does. 

Hmmmm, anyone getting any...special connections with this story, eh? If you get it don't ruin the plot for everyone else! And just for the record, I do intend for this story to get a tad...explicit in later chapters so brace yourself. 

Oh and I decided to put this and VP under the "drama" genre. It used to be "action/adventure" but there wasn't enough action...or adventure and I was gonna make it "humor" but it wasn't that funny so yeah, it's an official "general/drama". 


	4. Tommy finds out she blabbed

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Author's Notes: I'm gonna start putting in this little thing (see below) about every three chapters or so as a little recap. Just in case you read a few chapters then have to leave and then you don't need to go over the previous chapters to catch up should you forget.

And of course, I need to give even more thanks to my readers. You just don't know how happy I am to click on my "stats" page and see that this and VP is getting more and more hits! Thank you so much now if we can only get the review section to look the same…But yes, thank you. This is my first maybe second time writing an epic drama because I've always written little comedy spoofs and when I look back on them, they are crappy.

What's Happened So Far:

After the three return to the house from celebrating Moda's adoption with the Cubans, Tommy has to 'go to work' and leaves an allowance for Moda to go shopping. She goes downtown to a fancy boutique (of course, with Claude tagging along) called "Marcy D's" and meets a beautiful but somewhat rude and nosy saleswoman who's actually the owner of the store.

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Chapter 4: Last Name Please

Claude's P.O.V.

As we were leaving the store, I had a funny feeling. A tingly sensation on the back of my head like someone was staring right into my brain. As much as that does or doesn't make sense, that's how it feels. It's times like this I wish I was willing to talk, or know sign language because I wanted to discuss an important matter with Moda.

She opened the car door, stepped inside and unlocked my door. I helped her shove all of her bags into the backseat after the trunk was full. She didn't have too many bags, it's just that the Infernus has a very small trunk. After about five minutes of pushing, shoving and cramming, she started the car and we drove off.

The radio was on, yet she was silent and drove looking directly at the road. As usual she drove fast and erratically just like Tommy. Her face turned up into a pout, which was very hard to take it seriously because she has such a baby face.

"Ugh…the NERVE of some people!" she shouted. She turned to me and I just nodded despite the fact that I somewhat disagreed with her.

I wanted to tell her that when you're a close relative of a drug kingpin, you don't exactly use last names, especially when it previously belonged to only one person in the entire city. I also wanted to let her know that she should keep a lower profile and take more time to study her surroundings rather than just blindly driving around and shopping in every store on the way.

I especially wanted to tell her how suspect it is for a teenager to walk into a sophisticated clothing store and buy thousands of dollars worth of clothes…in CASH. With credit cards it's a lot less suspicious. My thoughts were interrupted by a ring. It was Moda's cell phone. She fumbled around on the dashboard and grabbed it, pulled the attenna and placed it to ear. She slowed down the car a little.

"Hello?" she answered flatly.

"Yes…this is your uncle speaking…" said a strange yet familiar voice.

"Huh? I ain't got no uncle…" she said. We heard Tommy's voice in the background saying "Gimme the damn phone!"

"Hey kid…" he said

"Um yeah, who wuzzat?" she asked.

"That was just Rosenberg being a dick…But yeah, come home." He ordered.

"What a coincidence because I'm on Starfish Drive already. I'll pull in." she said and clicked off.

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At the house (about 1-something pm)

NON-NARRATIVE

The kids pulled up in front of the house with Vercetti sitting on the stairs, still in his coveralls with his white and "red-polka-dot" shirt. Tommy jumped up and ran to the car. She stopped the car and Claude got out the car and went somewhere to smoke a cigarette. Moda took her time getting out. She snapped her fingers to some nearby goons.

"You…you…and you…" she pointed to three of them. "Take these bags out the car and put em in my room…" she said walking past Tommy and taking a seat on the stairs.

"Wow, kid…Usually you follow your menial requests with a 'please'". Tommy joked. Moda hung her head down. "What's eatin' ya?" He asked and took a seat next to her.

"Nothin…" she mumbled. Tommy reached for her face, grabbed her chin with his thumb and two fingers and lifted it.

"What's the matter…" she said nothing and turned away. "Moda…I'm talking to you…" 'God I've always wanted to say that…' he thought, smiling on the inside. Reluctant to answer, Moda spoke.

"Well, we went to this store downtown right, and there was th—"

"Wait, WHAT store…" he interjected.

"It was called 'Marcy D's', really nice store. Really new-looking and clean." She said. "And then there was this saleslady who kept harassing me and…"

"Oh crap, did you give her your last name, kid?" he asked. Moda darted her eyes left and right then nodded 'yes'.

"Aw Jesus, kid! You don't go around saying 'Whoo! Look at me, I'm a Vercetti!'" he stood up and ranted. Moda looked at him with wide, confused eyes.

"You know what, never mind, that's my fault…my fault, I should've told you...But yeah who was the salesperson?"

"She was the owner of the store…her name is Marcy De-something, I'm trying to think…Suarez, Souffle'…um…Soto!…Marcy DeSoto!" she replied.

"Marcy DeSoto…Hmmm…" he thought. He then looked at Moda and smirked. "Get dressed, kid." He said.

"We're going out tonight…" Moda sighed, finishing his sentence.

End Chapter

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Yes I know this chapter was short but you can only write so much during 4th period in forty-five minutes. But yeah, got cha' thinking, hmm?

The plot thickens…


	5. Tommy buys an outfit

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A/N: I promised myself that this would be a long chapter cuz I haven't written any real long ones since chapter one.

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Chapter 5: No Slutty Crap

"Do we _have _to go out tonight? I don't wanna…" Moda whined.

"Yeah, I see you're feelin' crappy so I'm taking you to a fun place today."

"But I just wanna go go to bed…" she complained.

"I said go and change, missy!" Tommy yelled, sick of her whining. To his surprise, her eyes didn't water, and she didn't yell back. She only rolled her eyes, huffed a little, and stomped into the house to her room to change.

"Hey I'm gettin' the hang of this parentin' thing…" Tommy said to himself. Feeling proud, he stood tall.

"Tommy Vercetti…Drug baron, homicidal maniac, businessman, father…Kinda brings a tear to my eye." He smiled, wiping a fake tear from his face. He turned around and Claude was standing right there, wide-eyed, and biting the inside of his mouth to keep himself from cracking up. Tommy, embarrassed, stared back at him and frowned.

" 'The fuck you lookin' at?" He sneered and went into the house to change his shirt. Claude shrugged his shoulders and decided to wait on the porch and maybe shoot some more pigeons.

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Outside the House

(about half an hour later)

Suprisingly, Tommy was the last one to get changed and out the house. Claude was still shooting innocent pigeons and Moda was sitting on the hood of the Infernus she drove today. Feeling crappy, she had just changed into a plain white t-shirt and tied the back of into a knot so it wouldn't look so big.

With that she wore some baggy, wrinkly navy blue shell pants (A/N: aka "swish pants") with zippers at the bottom and some plain, white tennis shoes. On her head, she wore a navy-blue head-scarf wrapped around it. Tommy did somewhat approve of this but still had something to say.

"Well, for once you don't look 70s…" He started. "So, do ya plan to do a drive-by on some Bloods on the way over, kid?" She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to look up.

"Ehh…I didn't care. As soon as we get back, I'm going to bed anyway. I feel like shit…" she cursed. Tommy gave her the evil eye. "I mean…crap."

Moda had looked up at Tommy then did a double-take. He was wearing the exact same thing he wore when they had first met.

"This outfit look familiar, kid?" he asked.

Seeing the golf get-up brought back recent but fond memories of their acquaintance. She remembered feeling timid, shy, and most definitely intimidated by Tommy. She also thought about how comfortable she felt around him now that he had given her a home and adopted her. This brought her mood up a little.

"So I take it we are going…"

"Golfing!" Tommy shouted with a hint of joy in his voice. He then took out a golf club he had hidden behind his back. It was the same one and still had a little bit of blood on it. "Vercetti style…"

"Ewwwww!" she exclaimed. "It's been almost two weeks and you never bothered to wipe that thing!" Tommy looked at the club.

"… … …Nope." He finally said. "Now get in the Sentinel, kid. We gotta get there while it's still crowded with those uppity, tight-ass golf pricks." Moda didn't understand what he meant but figured she'd find out eventually and got into the passenger seat of the car. Tommy revved the engine which had finally caught Claude's attention. He rushed to the car, yanked the door open and jumped in right before Tommy sped off.

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Jocksports, Vice Point

(about 2:00pm)

Tommy, Moda and Claude walked into the sport-clothing store. Tommy, apparently not caring where he was, or about drawing unwanted attention to himself, yelled for assistance.

"Hey! Somebody help me find some clothes in here!" he shouted very loudly, attracting stares from the other customers, which had embarrassed his daughter. Moda. She noticed something she had overlooked for a while. Tommy had a faint but definitely noticeable Italian Mob accent. She made a mental note to ask about that later.

"Excuse me!" shouted a voice from the back of the store, which was growing closer with each step. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to l—" stopped in his tracks after getting a good look at his loud and unruly customer, the salesperson quickly switched his tone of voice. "—et me assist you in your sporting fashion needs!" He smiled. Moda stood in amazement.

He was tall…very tall, six feet at the least. He towered over all three of them, especially Claude. He had whispy white hair with a bit of it combed over the top of his head, a bald spot. He had a large, bumped, pointy nose and thin pink lips. His aging skin was tight but still showed faint frown lines, laugh lines and crows feet on his face. He was wearing a simple, white, crisp shirt under a Kelly green sweater vest and was wearing poopie-brown corduroy pants.

"Yeah, I thought so, prick. Now help me find some clothes." Tommy demanded.

"For you, sir?" the salesperson asked.

"No…" he grabbed Moda by the arm and pulled her into plain sight. "For her."

"Of course, Mr. Vercetti. What sport are shopping for today?" he asked. A million questions were going through his mind right now but not only it wasn't his place or business to inquire about "her", but he still had a wife, family. and grandkids to come home to. Therefore, he decided it'd be in his best interest not to ask personal questions.

"Golf." He replied.

"Oh yes, come with me…My name is Greg by the way." He said, smiling again. He walked towards the back of the store with his guests trailing behind. As they followed him, Moda pulled Tommy close and whispered.

"Wait, you're buying me clothes after you told me to change!"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you can't just waltz into Leaf Links as is. You gotta be uniform!" he said.

"Well, why should YOU care? Don't you own it?"

"I wish. I've tried to buy it but their trying to butt-fuck me on the prices…"

"Then…why did you make me change!" she said, whispering harshly.

"I just like messin' with ya." He smirked. This pissed off Moda a bit.

They finally approached a wall in the store with a sign hanging on it that said "golf" in big, bold letters. On the wall and on racks in the small section were golf shoes, golf pants, skirts, sweater bests and of course, novelty bobble-head dolls of golf celebrities. 'Yuck…' Moda thought.

"Anything in particular, miss?" Greg asked her. Moda stepped forward.

"Um, yes. I just want something that's cute." She said.

"Yeah, and no slutty crap." Vercetti spoke up.

"I have just the thing…" said Greg.

- - - - - - - - - -

The shopping went on for about forty-five minutes. It would've taken longer if there was a larger selection of course but Moda was obliged to choose from what was laid in front of her and quickly because Tommy wanted to get to the course before it was empty.

Moda, who was changing into tenth attempt to look cute at golf, had finally stepped out for everyone to see.

She had on a cerulean blue plaid skirt that came above the knee but below mid-thigh, and a baby-blue sweater vest with a white, short-sleeved, collared shirt underneath. On her head was a small beret-like golf cap that was the same plaid as the skirt and had a baby-blue poofball on it. She had removed her headscard and styled her hair into a low, side ponytail so that it could fit under the hat.

On her legs were baggy, knee-high socks (A/N: like Japanese school-girl "loose socks" but not as baggy) and on her feet were golf cleats which were actually black, shiny, patent-leather, penny loafers with a three-inch heel (A/N: like Catholic-school-girl shoes.). She was pleased with how she looked in the outfit and twirled around in front of the mirror.

"I'll take it!" she said happily.

'Damn..." Claude thought, looking Moda up and down. He quickly suppressed any incriminating thoughts he had when he remembered that they were somewhat related.

"Oh no you won't! Hey Dave, what's with the hooker-shoes!" Vercetti raved.

"Oh, those are a special, custom-made model or our ladies' golf cleats. They have become so amazingly popular, we always keep a limited amount in stock." Greg explained.

"Well you can't have 'em…" said Tommy.

"Why-eeeeee! They're not that bad! Look, you can barely see the hell under my socks!" she argued.

"Nope…" Tommy stood with his arms crossed as if his decision was really final with Moda.

Seeing as how argumentative force wasn't going to guarantee her the shoes, she tried a trick that had often worked with her _real _parents. She widened her eyes a little, batted her long-with-lots-of-mascara eyelashes at Tommy and poked out her lower lip ever-so-slightly.

"Please…" she pleaded softly.

'Oh hell, I can't believe this…' Tommy thought while staring into her deep, black eyes. 'She's doing the old' sad-soulful-eyes trick!' Mentally straining to resist her sad and pitiful look, he actually gave in. He sighed heavily.

"ALRIGHT…you can have the shoes…" he said.

"Yay! She exclaimed and hugged her father.

End Chapter

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Awww, that was just adorable wasn't it? That trick worked for me a few times. Especially on weak-minded boys.


	6. The three play golf

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Recap:  
Moda, being pissed off by an unpleasant shopping experience downtown, comes home in a bad mood. Tommy, noticing this, decides to take her out golfing "Vercetti Style".

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Chapter 6: Vercetti Style Golf

The three left the store. Moda had on her golf ensemble, while Tommy had his red one. Moda also managed to convince Tommy to buy Claude a change of clothes so he just got him some new jeans and a plain white polo tshirt. They got back into the Sentinel and drove around the corner to the door of the golf course.

"Wow..." Moda gasped.

"Nice ain't it?" Tommy said. He caught sight of his "groupies" at the entrance then said "Oh shit..."

Hanging around the entrance were a group of elderly citizens dressed in pink, white and green. They watched the three exit the vehicle, sneering at them and turning up their noses. One of them was bold enough to approach Tommy as they tried to get inside.

"Hmmph! Are ya planning to kill someone's grandpappy today?" asked an old man with very poor posture, glasses and a bald, liver-spotted head.

"Leave me alone, gramps..." Tommy pushed him aside.

"Yeah, why don't you leave US alone, Vercetti!" shouted a female golfer from afar.

"Uh-huh, you always drive your caddy at full speed and taking us senior citizens down!" said another. Soon, Tommy was surrounded by the group of seniors. Moda and Claude stood aside, shocked and gawking in anticipation as to what Tommy would do next.

"Listen! Don't gimme that crap! If you don't wanna get ran over, all ya gotta do is turn up your hearing aids and listen for the honk." he said.

"I ain't got no hearin' aid!" shouted a raspy old voice.

"Then just...move the hell out the way! Now if you could excuse me, WE..." he said pointing to himself and the kids. "...Would like to do some golfin'!"

"Golf THIS, punk!" said a female as she took out her golf club and hit Tommy on the back with it.

"Ow!" Tommy shouted, un-fazed yet caught offguard by the strike. The other seniors took out their golf clubs as well, raising them as high as they could. They backed up into a bigger circle so they could have plenty of room to pummel Tommy with their clubs.

'Uh-oh...' thought both of the kids as they shot each other a glance.

Tommy, who didn't want to hurt or kill the old people...well, at least not with his bare hands, just shoved one ofthem forcefully to the ground. He fell over easily and was struggling to get back up.

"My hip!" said the poor man. This made his allies angrier as they silmutaneously started beating the crap out of Tommy with their golf clubs. This didn't hurt him too much, for they were only feeble citizens with light golf clubs. Plus, they were only hitting his torso and abdomen.

"I...could...use some...help, here!" He shoutedto the kids under the cartoony-like thud sounds being created from the beating. Moda and Claude looked at Tommy, then each other. Reluctantly (especially Moda), they walked up to the circle and gazed at Tommy.

"You heard 'im Claude...let's do this..." Moda said breathing a heavy sigh. She grabbed the shoulders of an old woman. "Sorry, Miss. Old-Lady Ma'am!" she said as she threw the old woman to the ground.

She repeated this to the other three seniors she pushed. Claude however, wasn't ascourteous and was simply peeling the old people from Tommy and tossing them to the ground, giving them scrapes on their gross, saggy old bodies. He smiled to himself thinking about how much he was actually enjoying bullying senior citizens. After about half an hour, the battle was over and the entrance of the Leaf Links golf course was littered with old bodies. Alive, of course. The senior citizens lay there, moaning and aching in pain.

"Okay, ready to do some _golf_?" Tommyasked enthusiastically.

"What!B-but what about the old folks!" Moda exclaimed.

"What about em'?" he replied with his usual I-don't-give-a-crap tone of voice.

"C'mon, we can at _least _call an ambulance..."

"Ha. YOU can call an ambulance, while I go in and _golf!_" He said and marched inside the golf course through the metal detectors. Claude followed behind him leaving Moda by herself. Eventually, she walked inside but asked the security guards to call an ambulance. She took out a wad of money and asked them to divide it amongst the seniors to convince them not to press charges against Tommy, Claude or herself.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Beep! Beep!

Moda turned sharply to see Vercetti in a turquoise golf cart full of golf clubs with Claude riding shotgun. She got in and Tommy drove to a high point of the course. It was a very steep, grassy hill which overlooked most of the course. Below, at nearby tees, there were many small groups of other golfers.

"Are we s'posed to be up here? It don't look very safe..." Moda commented.

"Relax, it's pefect. The best spot on the whole freaking course!" Tommy said, smiling.

'He is a little _too _pumped about this golf thing...' Claude thought, staring at Tommy with wide eyes.

"Can you golf, kid?" he asked Moda while reaching into one of the golf bags.

Actually, Moda did know a little bit about golfing. Her father had forced her to take a few lessons while she was a kid. She actually hated golf but came anyway, more curious about the "Vercetti Style" than anything else.

"Yeah, I know a _little _sump'n-sump'n..." she cheesed and approached the tee, casually swinging her club.Claude threw her a bright, baby-blue golf ball and a wooden golf tee. She caught it. Standing tall, she squinted her eyes in the sunlight to scope the golf course for a nearby hole.

"Where am I aimin'?" she asked.

Claude then noticed another thing about his cousin. She had a strange, yet familiar accent of some sort. Northern, obviously. He made a note to "ask" about that, hoping it'd give him a clue as to where she was from. Maybe he could get that info to Tommy and he wouldn't hate him so much. He shrugged it off.

"Right down...there." Tommy pointed to a hole which was actually occupied.

"Um..." she said, not exactly sure if he meant that hole or somewhere else, but didn't bother to question. "Okay..." she said while aiming. She rose her golf club and swung. Tommy smiled at the _crack _sound the club made hitting the ball as it flew far into the blue sky. The three watched in anticipation as to where the ball would land below. When it was out of view, they all heard a _thunk! _sound and a groan.

"Oops." Moda said, tiptoeing to the edge of the hill.

"What the hell!" said an angry golfer who was rubbing his head and holding her ball. He looked up and met eyes with her. "Hey kid! You hit me right on my fucking head with your fucking golf ball!"

"Sor-reeeeeeeee!" she shouted.

"Yeah, I'll make you sorry alright!" he shouted back, shaking his fist. "What kinda stupid kid are ya! Hitting your elders on the tops of thier heads with freaking golf balls..." He continuted to rant. Tommy, hearing this, crept to the edge of the hill as well.

"Up yours, dickhead!" Tommy shouted, laughing hysterically on the inside. "Better a golf ball in your head than one of my bullets!"

The golfer instantly backed down and continued his game with a lump on his head. 

"Crap, I meant to aim for the hole but..." 

"You did perfect, kid!" Tommy said while writing on a score card. "That's a birdie." 

"What?" Moda asked. Claude was confused as well. 

"Oh, I didn't tell ya? If ya miss, it's a bogey, if you hit a limb, it's a par, if you hit the torso or a vital organ, it's an eagle and headshots are a birdie. You get a hole in one if you knock em' unconscious...Or kill em'." 

"I should've known! I should've known that the 'Vercetti Style' of golfing involved the infliction of pain on people?" 

'Infliction?' Claude thought. 

"Relax, kid. It's good, messy, family fun!" Tommy smiled again. Moda frowned at him. "And one of the best ways I invented to be a complete asshole to society and noone can stop and ya know why? Cuz I'm Tommy Vercetti!" he said. He frowned as well while Moda mocked him repeating his name. 

"You know I hate hurting people!" 

"Oh REALLY? What about that guy you pounded the everlasting piss out of for trying to steal your car?" he asked. 

"Uh...I-I don't know what you're tal--" 

"Don't gimme that! I have eyes, ears, hell, even noses and tongues all over this damn city. So, yeah. You're what we call a 'closet maniac'." 

Moda, embarrassed and defeated. Set up a tee on the hill and said "Your turn, Claude!" She pushed him to the golf tee and handed him a small club. 

Claude, unsure of what to do, raised his golf club and swung. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on where you stand in this twisted, extreme version of golf, he missed. Tommy chuckled of course. Claude, frustrated took the club and threw it off the hill. It soared far into the sky. 

"Whoa..." Moda said in a dazed voice, as she watched the sport instrument slash leathal weapon take it's journey through the air. Tommy's face lit up but then his and the kids' faces fell as they saw that the club was heading towards a private group...Most of them dressed in black and a few men dressed in very familiar brown uniforms surrounding a special guest. The club finally landed, hitting the guy, and a police officer in the head. The blow knocked them both unconscious. 

"Oh..." she said 

"...Crap." said Tommy with wide eyes. 

The police officier scoped his surroundings for the launching pad of the projectile and spotted the trio on top of the hill. He pointed at them and shouted "Freeze! Police!". Him and the guards jumped into a nearby golf cart. 

"Run!" Tommy shouted as he crammed the kids into the cart then got in as well and drove away. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Outside The House 

(about 5pm) 

Claude's P.O.V. 

I don't know exactly who it was I hit with the club I threw, but apparently they were very important to have bodyguards and police with them on the course. Tommy was horrified, you should've seen the look on his face. But we got into the cart and hauled ass. Eventually we lost them and Moda really wanted to leave. Tommy, of course, refused but made a safer, less mischeivious offer to continue the game. He insisted that we just go to the driving range and hit balls into the ocean. 

She should've known this option was too safe and quiet to be true because Tommy, instead of aiming at the ocean blue, was aiming at watercraft and the passengers on them. He hit a few "eagles" but no "hole in ones". Moda ended up hitting a Coast Guard boat and dented the side of it by accident so this had led to another chase. 

Now, we're finally home. We're all tired but for the first time since I've been here...I actually had fun today. 

Tommy drove into the driveway of the mansion and got out. Moda ran into the house. Tommy's cell phone rang and he answered it immediately. 

"Yeah..." he answered flatly. 

"Did you have fun golfing today, hmm?" said a accented, female voice. Tommy's jaw dropped and his eyes bugged open. 

End Chapter 

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I know I ain't write in a few days (busy and brain-farted) but here it is! It's just something to hold you off until I write another chapter. In the meantime, why don't you review, and recommend and all that good stuff. Love you all! 


	7. Claude's caught drinking out the carton

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Author's Notes: I'm back! For a little bit. This chap might b e a little short and forgive me for any typos involving "b"s and spaces cuz they're kinda stuck together. I wonder what somebody had spilled on here to make it do that...  
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Chapter 7:

"Who the hell is this!" Tommy shouted, nearly blasting the reciever of his cell phone with the boom of his angry voice. The phone clicked and then came the monotonous dial tone.

He tightly gripped the phone in his hand, wanting to crush it's "unbreakable" plastic covering and viciously tear apart the wires inside but he then realized that he would actually need his cell phone in the very near future and decided not to abuse it. Instead, he took his golf club out the car and used it to terrorize the Top Fun van he had driven earlier by smashing all of the windows and kicking in the doors. Satisfied but still fuming inside, he started his way up the stairs into the house.

Claude, who was watching the whole scene, didn't know if he was more confused, amusedor even more intimidated by Tommy. He stared at him with even wider eyes. Tommy, sensing his stare, turned to him and sneered.

"The hell ya lookin' at...punk..." he spat and went inside. Claude, feeling the coast was clear, started laughing to himself but not too loud as to bring Tommy back outside and have himself be the next target for his moment of unleashed rage.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Later that night...

(around 8pm)

Moda was in her sanctuary of lavender, watching another hilarious weekly episode of _In Living Color _from the comfort of her plush canopy bed.Tumbling all over the bed in her navy swish pants,scarf and shirt, shelaughed at the antics of James Carrey's character as the lip-less, accident prone "Fire Marshall Bill" and felt happy inside. She still however, sensed a small disturbance in the pit of her heart. This feeling she refused to let it go unnoticed for she had such a strange feeling the very day of the plane crash. She jumped from her bed, manually turned off her television, and figured she'd discuss her feeling with her "father".

- - - - - - - -

Tommy on the other hand wasin his office, sitting in his plush, swivel chair, facing the windows in the office. He sat, twiddling his thumb across his rugged chin. Other than the concept of shaving...many things were bugging him tonight. He started to question Moda's purpose in his life...Her purpose in his...What about school? Prom? College? There aren't any schools in Vice City, at least none that he knew of, and he'd be damned if he were to relocate from the sun and money Florida had to offer. He knew he didn't have to worry about boys, especially when they'd inevitably find out she was his kid.

He hadn't told everybody yet that he had adopted a northern street kid. Would he? Should he tell the truth or make up a charade? Why SHOULD he have to lie? No one really had the audacity to question Tommy's decisions (except maybe his wardrobe). If he were to lie, how would he explain their difference in ethnicity? She, was obviously black...Brown skin, black-people hair (although it wasn't nappy), full, black-people lips, and her butt definitely gave it away that she was an Afro. He was obviously white/Italian...duh.

But the issue that was bugging him the most was who in God's name was tailing...no, _stalking _him around the city and calling him? Since caller ID hadn't been invented yet, he had only one (really vague) clue...The person's voice...

His thoughts were interruptedwhen he heard footsteps behind him approaching his chair. In a force of habit, he pulled out his hidden Colt 45 and aimed it at what he thought was another assassin...But as usual, was actually Moda. Moda only flinched a little, unlike the first few times this had happened where she would've ducked for cover and started to cry and scream hysterically. She was used to having Tommy mistake her for a hoodlum, so her nerves were gradually becoming steady.

"Oh...it's just you, kid." he stated flatly, resting his elbows on the desk.

He made a hand gesture for her to sit. She looked around the room, then back at him, wondering if he realized that there was only one chair in his office and it was occupied at the moment. She slowly approached the desk and leaned on a corner of the huge desk and heaved a sigh.

"I'm glad you came in, kid...I've been meaning to talk to youse..." he said in a low, serious voice. She met his serious eyes with those of her own and opted for him to continue speaking.

"Well...see...the thing is...It's been almost three weeks, you're my kid, yet...I still don't know a damn thing about you."

Moda's bewildered eyes darted around the room and back at Tommy. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Um...my _real _name is Charmaine...and--"

"What about your real _last _name, kid?" he interjected, suprisingly not raising his voice.

"Monroe..." she said softly.

"Charmaine...Moda...Monroe...Vercetti..." Tommy muttered that and many other incoherent combinations of the four names. Then started to chuckle a little. 

"What's so funny?" she asked. 

"Moda Monroe...'Mo-Mo'...Heh. It's cute, kid." 

Moda stared at him with a puzzled look. Suprised that he were actually human enough to find _anything_ "cute", let alone whimsical wordplay on one's names. "Are you done?" she asked. Tommy nodded his head 'yes'. 

"Good, 'cause I have somethin' I need to tell you about..." she said. Tommy sat, calm and patient, ears ready to collect and analyze any words that would come next. 

"Okay...see...the thing is...Okay. I was watchin' TV in my room about 'X' amount of time ago, but then I got these chills..." she explained. 

"Ya sure it ain't just 'the vapors' kid?" Tommy joked. (A/N: back in the 80s, 'the vapors' was a term used in the hip hop world to describe envy.) 

"No! Be serious! So, I don't know...I just have this strange feelin'..." she stated. Tommy's eyes darted from side to side. 

"That's it?" 

"See...another thing is...this was the same feelin' I had the day my par--" she paused, then took a deep breath. "...the plane crash." She finished then looked at Tommy. Worried, innocent eyes meeting cold, steel-grey ones, seeking an reply. There was a silence... 

"Well...I ain't no psychologist, kid." he finally said. "I mean, you says you just 'have a feeling?'" 

"I-I...I guess I just wanted to let you know that. I ain't really expect any words of wisdom...Just watch your back cause I have a sixth sense about these things." she said, standing up and exiting the room. 

"What the hell?" Tommy said to himself as he heard Moda retreat the room. "Was that a warning, or a threat?" he questioned. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Meanwhile, Moda was actually feeling hungry later that day. Seeing no phone in immediate sight, she dismissed the idea of calling for a pizza and decided to go to the kitchen for a snack. As she approached the kitchen (A/N: that room with the pool in it that overlooks the back yard. It's actually an entrance/exit but for the sake of this story, it's now a kitchen.), she could hear the clutter of someone raiding something. 

She cautiously peeked in the doorway and could see a short male figure, bent over into the open refridgerator way on the other side of the kitchen. She couldn't make out the figure that well since the fridge was the only source of light in the kitchen at the moment. She watched him as he rummaged through the ice box, then standing back up. She saw the face of the figure and of course, it was Claude who apparently, was also hungry. He stood in front of the fridge (never bothering to close it), clutching a Minute Maid juice carton as if it were the spoils of a war. He smirked, opening the spout of the cardboard carton and lifting it to his lips. 

"I hope you plan on usin' a glass!" Moda yelled, flicking on a light switch on the wall nearby. This startled Claude and made him jump a little, spilling some of the precious fruit juice onto the vinyl floor tiles. Moda approached him and stood before him. Arms crossed, with her hip poking out. 

"Mmm-hmmm..." she mumbled. 

Claude looked at the carton he was holding, then back at Moda. With her face turned up, Moda snatched the carton from his hand. 

"_I'll_ take that..." she said and drank the juice from the carton herself. She exhaled, wiped her mouth and handed the carton back to Claude. "Yum! So what's there to eat up in here?" she asked, pacing around the kitchen. Claude stood, dumbfounded then took a seat at the breakfast bar in the middle of the kitchen. Moda rummaged through the cabinets and found close to nothing in them. 

"Damn...this dude ain't even got no food in the kitchen..." she said to herself. Then, she spotted two small jars of peanut butter and jelly in the far corner of one of the cabinets. Behind them was a loaf of bread. She smiled and took them out the cabinet and put them on the breakfast bar. 

"PB & J..." she said to Claude, opening the new jars and untying the piece of metal on the bread bag. Not even bothering to search for a knife, the two kids tried their best to dump some of the edible contents onto the pieces of bread and smeared them together to even out the consistency. Satisfied, they sat at the bar, eating their sandwiches in silence. 

End Chapter...(sort of) 

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Happy? I hope so because I'm trying to fit some plots into the story cuz it's not exciting enough. So while I do that, why don't you review and...um...make yourself a sandwich, okay? I've just been busy people, but I do definitely plan to finish this series. 


	8. Moda goes to Little Haiti

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Chapter 8: Easy Like Sunday Morning?

The Morning After Next

(about 8:46am)

It was barely 9:00am and everyone was up. Well, Tommy was. Tommy hated late sleepers. He found it unfair that while common people had the luxury of sleeping in late, whereas it was seldom when he could get a good rest, knowing there was so much work and business to be taken care of. He went outside in front of the house and took out his rocket launcher.

"ka-boom!" Said the rocket launcher. This startled his daughter from a good night's sleep. In a panic, she jumped out of the bed and fell hard on the floor.

"Damn…" she groaned, rubbing her head and sides to ease them from the impact. She put on some flip-flops, walked out her room and headed outside in her swish pants, wife-beater and headscarf.

"Whaaaaaaaat?" Moda asked with a sleepy drawl, shielding her eyes from the sunlight.

"I'm going to work today, kid…" Tommy said, stashing his rocket launcher in the back of the Infernus.

'Big fuckin' whoop!' Moda thought as she stood with a blank face, which quickly turned into a scowl. She sighed, turned around and started to stomp back inside the house.

"Hey! I was still talkin' to you!" Tommy yelled. She turned back around and approached him. "I don't know why you have such a pissy attitude but you're gonna hafta' suck it up!"

Moda rolled her eyes when Tommy wasn't looking.

"While I'm gone, I need you to collect the assets for me, okay?" he said then handed her a crumpled piece of paper with a list of his assets on it. Moda snatched the list and stomped back into the house. "Make sure you're armed and that you take that little puissant with you!" he shouted.

"The hell is _your _problem?" Tommy mumbled, watching her retreating figure.

- - - - - - - - - -

On her way upstairs, Moda decided it'd be best to kill two birds with one stone and visit Claude. She walked into the den to see lil' Claude laying face-up on a couch. He was wearing his cargo pants and had his jacket covering his upper-body like a throw blanket. He did have a major case of bed-head but was still cute none-the-less. Moda smiled then snapped out of her daydreaming. She gently poked Claude on the shoulder.

"Hey…Claude…wake up…" she whispered softly, while poking him harder and harder. Eventually, his brown eyes fluttered open to see her. He flinched, but did little more than that.

"I don't blame him, he ain't really got to sleep since he's been here…" Moda thought then backed out the room, heading to hers to get dressed.

While in her room (which by the way, was a mess), she sniffed the air and was punched in the face by a foul, humid, scent. The scent of all the clothes she had worn this week. Not that her clothes were actually dirty, she just wished she hadn't worn a different body spray with each outfit she chose.

"That's it, it's time to do some damn laundry…" she thought, gathering her Chanel No.5, Cucumber Melon and Hazelnut Coffee scented clothes into two trash bags.

As she placed her belongings into the black, plastic sack, she also came to the realization that Tommy didn't keep any laundry appliances in the house and she'd be damned if she were to hand wash her clothes in the tub. She also realized that she didn't remember every seeing any Laundromats in Vice City except for…wait…no. She couldn't go there…Tommy wouldn't allow it! But then, who knows when Tommy would be back from God-knows-where and he never goes into Little Haiti except to collect money, which he had asked _her _to do anyway. But then again, he'd be even _more _pissed if he somehow discovered that she went alone, seeing as how she didn't want to disturb Claude.

After some intensive thinking, she came up with an ingenious idea. Or at least it was to her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Moda's P.O.V.

"Dear-Old-Dad" had requested that I drive around the whole of the damn city and collect some of the revenues. I didn't mind that much but was it really necessary for me to be up at quarter-past-dawn? I was sure he didn't appreciate my attitude, but damnit I wanted to sleep in!

I needed to do some laundry but the only Laundromat in the entire city is in the "Bowels Of Hell" as Tommy usually described Little Haiti. Now, being a bystander-slash-participant in the small rumble we had outside the Ice Cream factory a week ago, I can safely assume that they know my face. If I were to clean my clothes and return home safely in one piece, that would have to change.

The most important thing that can distinguish a Haitian from an average black person is their shade of brown. Haitians have notoriously black skin. I was never known as "yellow" but compared to them, you could call me "Lite Brite". So to fix this, I used the darkest foundation I had and spread it evenly over my face, neck and some of my arms. I wasn't as dark as a true Haitian, but I could pass.

Another thing…I look a little too high-class to be considered a Haitian. I've seen them. They remind me of the ghetto children I used to play with and even look like back in Ohio. Just an average t-shirt and jeans, usually dirty from 'rasslin' in the mud, torn from rough-housing on the concrete…Although I didn't have anything "rough", I _did _however possess an original Haitian gang t-shirt. I had found it in the trunk of the Infernus one day after I went shopping but of course I ain't mention that to Tommy.

I dug in my drawer, found it and put on the over-sized t-shirt, royal purple in color with the word "RELAX" printed in big, bold, white letters. The shirt was huge and looked like a parachute on me so I took the liberty of tying it back into a knot, exposing a little midriff in the process. I dug in my drawer again and found some baggy, Heather-gray sweatpants to wear. I put those on and rolled them up to the shin of my leg. I also walked into the closet and put on the crappiest shoes I had purchased. Some navy-blue, closed-toe, straw-wedge, lace-up sandals, completed my disguise perfectly…almost.

I looked in the mirror again. Since when did anyone ever see a Haitian with smooth, shiny, hair? Haitian hair is coarse, dull, and pretty much poorly-maintained (when not in dreadlocks or in a scarf). Now no amount of dirty clothes could force me to jeopardize the hereditary "Monroe-nice-hair" gene. Luckily, a few years back, one of my neighbors had taught me to braid hair. I used my amateur skills to braid my own hair into cornrows. They looked nice, except all of the hair I had missed on my forehead. No matter, I just combed it with my fingers to the sides of my face.

Now I believe I could pass for a Haitian…Dark skin, gang shirt, bummy pants and shoes, braided hair, oh yeah…I was ready.

End Chapter

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How was that? I had finally got an idea for a twist in the story so I decided to come back to work.  R&R. Love ya!


	9. and makes her first friend

A/N: I'd like to note that the Prequel, VP (remember?) has almost 1000 hits! Whooooo! Even though most of those might not count because the number of readers had dropped with each chapter but still! It means that the description of the story ALONE was good enough for someone to say "hmmm…ah what the hell. click" But yeah…back to the story.

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Chapter 9:

Tommy's P.O.V.

I had to leave early…_real _early. The person who had called me and hung up last night had called again after I was asleep and had asked me to meet them on the Leaf Links bridge. Of course, not knowing who this anonymous caller was, I packed enough heat to cook an elephant and stuffed myself with Kevlar. I took a cab to the bridge seeing that there wasn't anywhere nearby I could park my car within a short walking distance. Foolish? Don't worry, should this be an ambush, some dumb Florida moron always parks their car at the golf course entrance with the keys in it.

I approached the crest of the bridge, inhaling the salty Atlantic Ocean air. I wondered what the kid was doin'. I hope she doesn't starve to death because there's virtually no food in the fridge and every delivery person in the city refuses to deliver to the Vercetti residence. But that's the way I liked it. People were intimidated by me. Rival mob bosses, business owners, friends…Other than the cops and the kid of course, everyone was afraid of me. In the midst of my thoughts, I heard the click-clacking of high-heeled footsteps approach me.

I turned around and it was just some broad…a familiar-looking broad, walking across the bridge. I continued to (cautiously, mind you) stare out into the sea as I waited for my anonymous caller.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Moda's P.O.V.

I snuck down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible while lugging the garbage bag along. I almost blew my cover when I accidentally kicked an empty beer bottle down the stairs, it clinked all the way down and shattered…right in front of the den where Claude was sleeping. I froze, creeping down the rest of the way and peeking into Claude's room. He stirred a little but then resumed his peaceful sleep. I sighed heavily and placed a note I had written at the entrance of the den.

I continued to creep through the lobby, avoiding the obstacle course of wine bottles, shot glasses, and pizza boxes. I opened the double doors and was blinded by the Florida sunshine. I did a little victory dance, proud of myself for successfully sneaking out of the house, but my face fell when I heard the crashing slam of the double doors. Soon afterwards, I heard a loud thump. Now I really had to get the hell outta Dodge.

I slid down the rail of the Roman-style stoop and hopped into the nearest vehicle, a silver Blista Compact.. As I skipped merrily to the car, I took one final thought about what I was going to do then brushed it from my mind. What's the worst that could happen?

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tommy's P.O.V.

"Hello…" said the female as she stood before me.

"Hey." I replied casually.

Then, I took a really good look at her. She wasn't a bad-looking broad. She was about 5"5, had this flaming reddish-brown set of hair that was pulled back in a short ponytail and these inflated, pink lips. Her skin was smooth and tanned from the Florida sun. As I stared at her, she extended her hand.

"Tommy Vercetti, I presume?" she asked with a familiar Hispanic accent.

"Oh…Yeah, yeah." I snapped out of my daze and shook her hand firmly. "And you are…?"

"Marcy. Marcy DeSoto." She spoke slowly trilling her 'r' and squinting her golden-brown eyes.

Marcy DeSoto. It sounded familiar. I think that was the name of that one bitch that had the kid come home from shopping lookin' mega-pissed. But it was more than that. I spelled her name out in my head. Marcy…Marce…De…Soto. Marcy…D…S…Oh my God. I knew who she was.

"That ain't your real name, is it?" I asked.

"Hmm?" she smiled, a little surprised by my question.

"Because if you are who I think you are, I oughta toss you out into the fucking sea by your deep-throatin' neck." I said in a deep voice, narrowing my eyes. "Mercedes."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Claude's P.O.V.

I guess it's just fucking destined that I shouldn't sleep, not even on a slow Sunday morning. I fell to the floor, startled by a huge slam. My eyes flashed opened and my back and arm were sore because I had fell on them. I sat up, rubbing the injured areas when I saw a small, pink piece of paper folded in half at the den. I carefully unfolded it and read it in my mind, kinda hearing her voice.

_Claude, I'm just going out to do some laundry. You were out like a light and I didn't want to wake you up. I know Tommy is gonna be pissed that I left without you but he don't have to know. If he comes in, your best bet would be to hide…Maybe in my room, Tommy never goes in there when I'm out so you don't get BOTH of us in trouble. Thanks. Oh and even though you don't speak, here go my cell. (XXX-XXXX)_

_Moda_

I noticed the fragrant body spray coming from the letter and store it safely in the inside pocket of my leather jacket.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Moda's P.O.V. 

After visiting the nearest respray shop, I took the fastest, least conspicuous route I knew to Little Haiti and that was to ride across the Leaf Links Bridge. I noticed a man and a familiar female, standing on the sidewalk of the bridge and conversating. The man was about as tall and had a haircut like Tommy's. When I got off the bridge, I gradually decreased the speed of my bike and resumed my traffic obedience to blend in. I noticed several groups of Haitains standing around where I had stopped in front of a red light. I cracked my window so I could hear my environment as well as see it. 

Out the corners of my eyes, I could see them pointing at me and I could hear them loudly whispering in French. What were they sayin'? I focused my eyes back on the traffic light which had turned green just in time. I finally located the laundromat and parked it in a seemingly safe location. I stepped out and looked around. Across the street were little Haitain children playing in front of makeshift houses. I smiled at the sight then walked into the tiny laundromat, carrying my garbage bag. 

Inside were about three rows of washers with dryers piled on top of them. One of them had a crusty piece of paper taped to it. It read "OUT OF ORDER" in big, thin, crudely-written letters. On the other side of the room were a raggedy change machine, a fw raggedy chairs and a crappy-looking vending machine. I frowned in disgust and took a dollar bill from my pocket. I approached the change machine, straightened my bill and inserted it into the machine. I waited for the usual "vooooom, clank, ka-plink" sounds of the machine returing four quarters to me but instead heard nothing. 

"Oh...dat machine is broke." said a childish, female voice. I turned around and saw a small girl at the door, struggling to fit several baskets with bags of clothes piled on top of them through the door. 

"Um...you need some help?" I aked, not even bothering to fake a Haitain accent. The girl looked at me, her eyes widened and her lips curled into a smile. She nodded slowly. I helped her with her luggage and she stood before me. 

"_Merci_..." she smiled, revealing a pair of terrible children-teeth. 

I took a good look at her. She had to have been about eight years old and not too much taller than four feet. She was probably the "fat kid" in her class. She also wasn't a very pretty child. She had a wide nose, puffy cheeks, small, round eyes whose color were like mine if not darker, short, nappy, poorly-braided hair and the skin on her face was pimply and broken out. She wore a tight, dingy-white shirt that showed some of the rolls on her belly, torn jean capris showing her ashy legs, and some bright-orange flip flops that looked relatively new. But what amazed me most of all was that she wasn't nearly as dark as the oter Haitians but was more like an ashy off-black. 

"You're welcome...so...uh...what's your name?" I asked to be nice. 

"Uh...my name Kyra." she spoke. Her Haitain accent was barely present. "W'as yours?" 

"My name is..." I replied slowly, trying to think of a name. I blurted out the first one that came to mind. "Coco." _'As in 'Coco Chanel'? Way to lie, honor student.' I scolded myself. Kyra looked up at me, nearly straining her neck, I'm sure then smiled again. _

"Okay Coco." she said softly. 

End Chapter. 

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Oh yeah, holla at cha girl. She is on a roll. Does anyone see where I'm going with this? 


	10. Mercedes confronts Tommy

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Chapter 10: We Meet Again…AND Again!

"Hmmmph…" Mercedes chuckled. "Same old Tommy. I wasn't really expecting the welcome wagon anyway." She said, reaching into the pocket of her loose-fitted jeans to take out a carton of cigarettes and a plastic lighter. She removed one from the pack using her bright acrylic nails and placed it on her full lips. Lighting it with the lighter, she placed the two items back into her pocket. Of course, not even offering to share.

"Should you be smoking those?" Tommy asked with a sneer. "It could be fatal to the fetus…Unless you wanna kill another one before it's born."

Mercedes sighed heavily and took a small drag from her cigarette. Never bothering to turn away from Tommy to blow the smoke from her mouth, the last precious clouds of the drag hit him in the face.

"I didn't want to do that you know…" she said "Besides, I'm sure your _new _girlfriend could give you a slew of _hijos_ if you'd let her." Tommy's facial expression changed.

"_Girlfriend_?"

Mercedes reached into her other pocket and took out a handful of Polaroid photos. She handed them to Tommy and stood with her hands on her hips as he flipped through the pictures. Tommy was astounded. Not only were the pictures in high-definition with zoom, but they were as expected, pictures of him and Moda together. Pictures of them when they went shopping, golfing, collecting money, even the incident at the Cherry Popper Ice Cream factory with the Haitians.

"W-what the hell! Are you stalking me!" Tommy shouted, slamming the photos on the concrete sidewalk below them.

" 'Stalking' is a term _so _strong…" she stated using incorrect grammar "I prefer…'watching from a distance'. After all, you said to _stay _far…not _admire _fromafar," she smirked, taking another drag on her tobacco stick.

"But WHY?"

"Because I still love you _Thomas_." She said, emphasizing her Spanish accent on his name as she knew he liked it. "I just don't love what you are doing right now."

"Well, be that as it may…She ain't my girlfriend." Tommy said, turning away.

"Okay then who the hell is she!" Mercedes asked, raising her voice.

"That's none of your Goddamn business!" he snapped back at her.

"Oh, when some tall, baby-faced, stick-figured, wide-hip, stuck-in-adolescence _puta _tries to move in on the love of my life, it _is _my fucking business!" Mercedes snapped back.

"That tall, stuck-in-adolescence bitch is my daughter!" Tommy blurted loud enough to scare away nearby seagulls. Mercedes' eyes widened and she gasped, dropping her half-finished cigarette on the ground.

"Yeah…Is THAT what you wanted to know! You wanted to know how she became an orphan from a fucking plane crash and how I adopted her so she wouldn't become some whore on the street or some damn…junkie in the alley doin' blow! Is that what you wanted to hear! HUH!"

Mercedes looked away in shame…Trying to think of something to say to excuse her actions.

"For your information, she's not even sixteen yet. She's been with me for almost a month now and I even got the papers. And you know what, she's happy and _I'm _happy, especially since now that _she's _what I've wanted all along. She's the one thing I've wanted in this entire world and when _you _had the opportunity to give it to me and complete my world, you threw it away without giving a rat's ass about _me_!" he shouted even louder, his voice almost about to crack.

"I said I wasn't ready!" Mercedes shouted back, tears streaming down her face.

"Well who in the fuck _needs _you! I've got money, I've even got the spare time! Don't you understand, not _once _did I object to you having a kid!"

"I-I'm sorry…" Mercedes sobbed softly, hanging her head down. "I had…no idea…All I wanted was to make you happy. I wanted the child too but I was afraid that if I were to keep it that you'd leave me. I figured that the last thing that the king of Vice City would need is some…offspring to get in the way of things."

Tommy paused, drinking in every word pouring from his ex-mistress.

"Could…could we make this right again? I could help you raise your new daughter…"

"I don't think so." Tommy spat. "Besides, she's almost sixteen…you're about ten years too late."

"But I want us to grow again. And what better way to grow than with a family?"

"Me an' the kid are enough family." He said, turning back towards the golf course, ready to hijack the Comet waiting in front of the entrance.

"Wait!" she shouted after him, reaching into her shirt and taking out a small, folded piece of paper. "At least take my number…" She said, gently placing the paper in the palm of his hand and folding it.

Tommy exhaled heavily and reluctantly placed the paper in his pants pocket. He and Mercedes parted their ways down opposite paths on the bridge.

- - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile…At the Little Haiti Laundromat!

"Wow…" Kyra said as she looked at Moda.

"'Wow' what?" Moda asked.

"I like yo hair…and yo shoes, and yo clothes." She replied slowly. _Wow, she is so beautiful… _She thought to herself.

"Um…thanks!" Moda smiled sweetly. _Wonder why she doesn't have such a strong French accent like the others…_Moda thought. "Is there a grocery store or something nearby where I can get some change?" she asked.

"Uh-uh…" Kyra shook her head. "But I do got some extra quarters in my pocket." She said, retrieving the said quarters from her pocket.

"Oh, thank you so much!" Moda smiled, showing her teeth. She dumped her bags of clothes onto a large table and began to sort through the colors and the whites. Kyra too dumped her clothes on the table across from her, also separating her laundry. After several minutes of silence, Kyra looked up at Moda and said:

"Coco?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you…a supermodel or somethin'?" she asked with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

"Actually, no I'm not…" Moda chuckled out of flattery. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you really tall, you skinny and you really pretty!" the child said rapidly.

"Oh…Thank you…But no, I'm not a model."

"Well, you should be!" Kyra smiled, her ears tingling from the sensation of hearing Moda's proper speech. Once again there was silence.

Kyra continued to admire Moda's being and was starting to admire her load…Of clothes that is. As Moda folded, and sorted through her clothes, the small child couldn't help but gaze upon the chic and trendy designer gear that Moda had. From the dress she wore to the Malibu to the more punky mini-skirt outfit she wore on her day out. She also couldn't help but wonder, who exactly was she, why hadn't she seen her before, and how was a Haitian from this area able to afford such pretty clothes.

- - - - - - -

After the two had finished their laundry, Kyra offered to help Moda stash her clothes into her Blista Compact. She was shocked to see that the speedy little car had no scratches, dents, or cracked glass. It was truly a car fit for such a princess.

"Well, thank you so much for the quarters, the company and the help Kyra." Moda said as she got into the car and started up the engine. She looked out the window to see a very sad Kyra waving goodbye to her. This sparked a little bit of pity and guilt inside Moda's heart.

"You know what? Since you've been so nice to me, you wanna go grab somethin' to eat?"

Kyra nodded her head and hopped into the car, stashing her bag of laundry in the back seat.

"But first, I need to drop my laundry off at home." She said. Moda shrugged her shoulders and listened to directions given by the child to her home.

- - - - - - - -

"This is it, right here." Kyra said. She instantly jumped out the car before Moda parked it across the street, grabbed her back and literally threw it to the door of her shack of a house. She ran back to the car but was called to a screeching halt by a deep, Haitian voice.

"Wher'ya tink ya goin' girl?" said the rather handsome male standing in the doorway, wearing a ragged lavender Haitian gang shirt.

"I'm going with my friend to get sump'in to eat. I finished the laundry like you said." Kyra muttered with her head hanging down.

"Don' lie girl, you know yo ugly ass ain't got no friends." Snapped the man.

"There she go! In the car!" Kyra shouted, pointing at the car in the driveway where Moda was sitting, biting her fingernails in boredom. Kyra ran to the car and asked Moda to come out just so she could verify her story. She came back across the street with Moda in hand and presented her in front of her brooding relative.

"This is my new friend. Her name is Coco." Kyra declared proudly.

Moda, being nervous in front of the muscular Haitian male, only gave a soft wave and a smile.

"Damn. I guess you told me, huh." He said then sneered at Kyra. "Just don't be out too late or you know what's gon' happen." He said. The two turned away to walk back to the car.

"Wait, wait bay-bee girl…" he cooed to Moda. "How come I ne'er seen your pretty self around here?"

"Oh…I…um…" Moda stammered "I…just moved here."

"Well I hope to see more of such a sight." He said seductively, licking his lips. To Moda's surprise, it turned her on and she felt a sensation of chills going down her spine.

"Yeah..um…maybe. Don't worry, I'll have her back in time." She said and quickly walked back to her car.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Tommy's P.O.V.

Tommy did as was promised in the last chapter and hijacked the banana-yellow Comet waiting in front of the golf course entrance as scheduled. He turned the station to Espantoso because a sappy love or rock song was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. He was thinking about maybe going to get a drink but instead decided to head straight home.

Outside the house, he stepped out the car and slammed the door, cracking the passenger window. He wanted so much to relieve stress but rocket launcher ammo was not cheap.

- - - - - - - - - -

Claude's P.O.V.

Claude was in the kitchen eating the last of the peanut butter and jelly and nearly jumped upon hearing a car door slam. He thought about the chance of it being Moda but decided not to take it should he have been wrong. He scrambled to the lobby but saw a hairy, Caucasian arm reach through the door so he ran back into the kitchen.

Panicking and searching for an effective place to hide, Claude used his short stature to possibly one of his biggest advantages. He opened the cabinet of the breakfast bar, praying it was empty and climbed inside.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT! _He cursed to himself as he heard heavy footsteps parading around the lobby. _If I get caught I'm swear I'm gonna put Ben-Gay in her underwear drawer…_

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Moda's P.O.V.

"So, where do you wanna eat?" Moda asked Kyra who surprisingly was quiet.

"How about the pizza place around the corner?" she replied.

"Nah…You know what, we're gonna go downtown and eat!"

The child's eyes lit up and she squealed with joy.

"Ooh! I've never been downtown before!" she exclaimed. Moda smiled at the excited child as she stayed glued to the passenger window, examining the beautiful early-evening landscape of Downtown Vice City. Beautiful women srutting the streets in their business suits, bright neon-lit signs of Taverns and nightclubs, the sharply-dressed drug dealers that stood at every other corner, the breathtaking-yet-completely-psycho Love Fist groupies. It was almost too much for Kyra to take in at one time.

"So…who _was _that?" Moda asked, referring to the Haitian that just tried to hit on her.

"Huh? Oh…he my brother. My step-brother kinda." She replied, never looking away from the window.

"Step-brother?"

"Um…Yeah, I'm adopted."

_So _that's _why she's not as dark or ghetto-Frenchy like the other Haitians._

"Really? Coulda fooled me…" Moda lied.

"Too bad I can't fool everyone else." Kyra said, turning away from the window to stare ahead through the windshield. "Look at me, the other Haitians have that smooth, dark skin. Mine got pimples and scars all over. My eyes ain't light-brown like most of the Haitians, they ain't even got no color…"

Moda turned down the volume of the radio so she can fully hear the child.

"I hate the way I look…I'm fat, I'm ashy and…I'm…ugly!" she said, bursting into tears almost. "That's why I have no friends. Nobody wants to be friends with somebody fat like me."

"Don't say that!" Moda exclaimed, showing sympathy.

"You jus' sayin' that cuz you don't understand. Cuz you pretty, skinny and you got nice skin and hair. You prolly got lotsa friends and boys after you..."

At this point, Moda burst out into laughter. Tears fell from Kyra's face as she stared at Moda questionably with wide, wet eyes, sniffing periodically.

"I-I'm not...laughing...at you..." Moda said, gasping between laughs and speech. "Girl, please. Do you have ANY idea what I went through back in the day?" she asked. Kyra shook her head.

"People used to call me 'Lollipop', 'Balloon-Girl', 'ET'...They always called me that because I was really skinny with a huge head."

Kyra frowned, huffed and sat even lower in her seat. _Wow...you really WERE tormented..._She thought sarcastically.

"The point is, that...no matter how tall, short, ugly, pretty, thin or pleasantly plump you or anyone else will be, there will ALWAYS be someone who will talk shit about you." She spoke and smiled. Kyra looked up at her, smiled and wiped her tears away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Hey kid!" Tommy shouted, flicking on the lights in the kitchen. "You in here?" he asked again. Tommy leaned on the breakfast bar where Claude was hiding under. Claude underneath was sweating and getting claustrophobic, making it harder for him to intake oxygen into his tiny lungs. This resulted in a raspy breathing, which was easily heard amongst the background of the kitchen's resounding silence.

"...The hell?" Tommy asked, slowly walking around the kitchen. His ears perked as he heard Claude's raspy and distressed breathing. Approaching the breakfast bar and kneeling down to open the very same cabinet containing the pocket-sized youth, he was startled by the harsh ringing of his cell phone. He jumped up and hit himself on the top of his head.

"Arrgh! Gotdamnit to fucking hell! Shit!" he yelped, rubbing the crown of his head. While in pain, the cell phone's ringing had ceased and Tommy had missed the call. _Jesus Christ! Oh…Where is that kid! It's almost nighttime…_

- - - - - - - - - -

"Coco, I wanna know more about you." Kyra asked, stuffing her face at a downtown taco restaurant. Moda nearly choked on her taco.

"Well…um…that is to say…"

"Do you got a family? Any bruthas or sistas?" she inquired

"Well, I do have a…brother…" Moda lied, then instantly remembered something important. _Claude! _She thought, almost having a panic attack. _Tommy's probably back already and is most likely holding him hostage! I gotta get the hell outta here! _"You know what…It _is _starting to get like, real late and I promised your brother I'd have you in before dark."

Kyra looked out the window next to her and saw the sun, barely touching the water. She then turned to a clock hanging on the wall. "It's only 7:00…" she said nonchalantly.

"Yeah, and then there are things I need to do…Y'know." Moda said, jumping up and hurriedly clearing the table they were sitting at.

"But wait, can I finish eating?"

"Take it with you, c'mon we need to go." Moda said firmly so that the child would get her point and stop asking questions.

- - - - - - - - - -

Ah-ha! The plot thickens! I'm sure that the MercedesXTommy discussion didn't make too much sense but hey, I never was that good at writing serious, climatical plotlines! Oh yeah and to those requesting to hear more Tommy in the story, I'm working on it…working on it…


	11. Moda runs over Claude with her car

Author's Notes:

I would like to say that boy does it feel good to be back! I apologize for the i ridiculously /i long wait (3 or so more months and it would've been a year) for another chapter but between work, school, people and my brain farts, it was darn near impossible to make up another chapter. But now, I've suddenly decided to open this story once again! I know you, a faithful reader of this story are grateful as well because I too, know how it feels to read a great story, only to be left forever starving for another chapter after realizing that the author hasn't updated it for months, even years and more than likely isn't going to. I STILL LOVE YOU!

Last Time:

While rendezvousing with Mercedes at the Leaflinks bridge, Tommy lays all of his cards on the table while taking in the malarkey "Marcy DeSoto" has been throwing at him. Meanwhile, his daughter is running amuck in LITTLE HAITI (of all places) performing the seemingly innocent task of doing laundry and befriends an outcast Haitian child (of course, using a different alias after learning her lesson). But wait, where is Claude? That's right, he's cooped up in a cabinet of a i breakfast bar /i , hiding from Tommy because Moda had left the house without him. And, that's the previous two chapters in a nutshell.

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Chapter 11: Tension

With Kyra securely strapped into the passenger seat and holding onto the dashboard for dear life, Moda drove the little Blista Compact as fast as its engine would allow back to Kyra's home. She slowed down but not by much, swerving around Little Haiti's corners and carelessly scanning each block for Kyra's house and i quickly /i . This was especially difficult because each house in little Haiti was built just as identical and as crappy as the next. Kyra almost saw her little shack pass by the window completely until she alerted Moda.

"Here it is!" she shouted, causing Moda to slam her big foot on the brakes which made the little coupe come to a screeching halt.

"Do you have your food?" Moda smiled with bullets of sweat running down the side of her head thinking about Tommy. Kyra nodded and turned to wave her good-bye.

"Bye-bye!" Moda said and sped off.

"Wait!" Kyra said. "Don't…go." She whispered sadly to herself. Her eyes watering and her mind wondering and wanting to destroy whatever or whoever was so important that they had to take her angel away. She walked into her house, slumping her shoulders. By that time, Moda was well on her way onto the Starfish Island bridge.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Claude was still trapped in the closet (metaphorically speaking), relieved that Tommy had hurt himself and left the room because if he were to have opened that cabinet door…Never mind, he didn't even want to i think /i of what would happen if that wooden door would've just swung open, with an angry, raging Italian behind it. Taking deep, shallow breaths, he gently pushed the cabinet door open using the nail on his index finger to avoid any inevitable creaking noises. He exhaled deeply and slowly climbed out from under the breakfast bar, one foot at a time, and stood up. He stretched his muscles and tiptoed his way to the lobby of the house.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tommy, upset that he had missed a call and have had yet to have his calls to Moda returned, searched high and low all over the house for his daughter.

_Damn it all…When is someone gonna invent a way for me to know who called my phone?! That would be so fucking convenient right now…_(A/N: wait, did star-69 exist back then?)

The first place he had looked was in her purple-mountain-majesties of a bedroom. Sure there was an unmade bed, a muted television wasting valuable electricity, tape cassettes carelessly stacked and scattered near the stereo and a fresh, flowery smell in the air, but no Moda Vercetti. Despite her sporadic sloppiness (which he hoped would not become a habit), he felt as if something was missing…He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt as if things that were regularly present in her bedroom had suddenly disappeared. He brushed it to the back of his mind and regained his train of thought. That train had made a pit stop as a red flag went up.

"I wonder…" he asked himself, almost sprinting down the stairs towards Claude's den. He stormed into Claude's "room", throwing everything around. Alcohol bottles shattered against the wall, and wine glasses crashed onto the rugs (A/N: and wouldn't you have to slam a glass pretty damn hard to break it on carpet?). He brushed off everything on the couch (that Claude sleeps on), including that famous leather jacket. Suddenly, Tommy noticed the presence of that familiar, fresh, flowery smell that he had been acquainted with earlier, omitting from Claude's cheap jacket.

"…The hell?" he muttered, sniffing the pockets of the jacket to successfully pinpoint the scent like a bloodhound. He reached into an inside pocket of the jacket and found a brilliant pink piece of paper. He took it out and read it out loud.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Claude, who had been watching Tommy from under the stairway in the lobby the entire time, instantly felt his heart almost stop and his temperature increase by five degrees. His forehead was a Niagra Falls of nervous sweat and his palms were too, barely making him capable enough of gripping the pole he was standing against for support. Claude figured his best (and pretty much only) option for the time being, and one of his old favorites in such situations was to get the i hell /i out of there. Luckily, one of the huge front doors was cracked ever so slightly. He approached it, using only one finger from each hand to pull it open, and escape, running like mad towards the main street.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Moda, approaching the house and preparing to slow down to a stop, clenched her eyes shut and silently prayed that her cover wasn't blown. Then again, she remembered that she never i was /i lucky enough to get away with i anything /i . She opened her eyes and apparently, she was still driving pretty fast because…

BOOMP! THUD! SCREEEEECH!

"OH MY GOD!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

And THAT'S the end of this chapter! Oh yeah, I wanted to leave everyone hanging. So hopefully, you've read and enjoyed this chapter and hopefully I can continue writing this and FINISH this freaking story and maybe continue another volume. I've never done a Threequel let alone a sequel so maybe I should try it.


	12. Ferrari needs a favor

A/N: 

First, I'd like to apologize for the ridiculously short chapter (and malfunction of italic HTML tags)  
last time but I promise there will be less of those. Not too stuck in a rut but let's just see how this goes, eh? And I would also like to point out that my school library has BLOCKED this website! Can we say "OMG WTF?!" I mean, come on! I was probably the only one in the whole of the school accessing the site! Damn, that sucks because now I'll have to write outside of school meaning less chapters/longer intervals of waiting for you guys.

Oh, and thanks for the reviews everyone! Wait, could I take a minute to say how awesome it is to be a freelance writer? Or more like, how awesome it is that such a website exists where you could write stories as you pleased and get practice. Hell, no wonder I've been acing my English class all year, hmmm? However, I am aware that I am not the best at placing commas or using semi-colons and that I may find the use of ellipses ("…") a little TOO convenient. I also think I have a habit of being a little TOO descriptive of details. But oh well, I guess that also makes my work easy to distinguish from others.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 13: Recruit

Little did she know, Moda had already been caught red-handed in this whole mess but she had managed to get rid of Kyra and make it back home...only to have hit a pedestrian.

"Uhhnn…" the poor brunette groaned, after landing backside-down on the concrete.

"Holy shit! I'm so sorry!" Moda said, kneeling over Claude and lifting his head into her arms.

Claude rubbed his head, his large brown eyes fluttering open to see the female that was cooing over him. His pupils shrank when he realized he was facing a dark-skinned girl with braids, dressed in a Haitian gang t-shirt. He instantly rose to his feet and pulled a pocketknife from his jeans pocket.

"Hold up!" Moda yelled, almost screaming, "Don't you know who I am?!"

He narrowed his eyes at her and pushed a button on the knife, making the blade emerge from the handle with a click. Moda started sweating. He must not ever feel safe…She had no idea whether to be amazed that her disguise was that convincing, or question Claude's common sense, as she wasn't that difficult to identify to those who knew her.

"It's me!" She said, smiling and doing a catwalk turn. Claude cocked his head to the side and took a good look at her…then the blade of the knife returned inside the handle.

"I know, this getup is pretty damn good, isn't it? But wait, why are you outside?" she asked. Claude looked over at the house and put his arms behind his head.

"Don't tell me that…"

And the whole of Starfish Island shook in tremor with the sound of an angry, booming voice. Seagulls instantly took flight, departing from the house.

"MOOOOOOO-DAAAAAAAA…!"

"Aw, hell." she said flatly.

- - - - - - - - -

In the mansion, the three sat in Tommy's office. Moda was recovering from another shock after her disguise had almost gotten her killed again. Tommy was nervously pacing back and forth behind his desk, while the kids were watching from their chairs. Moda was trying to get a good look at his face to read it, but it didn't take a genius to identify his most common displayed emotion…anger.

"C-can, I just ask ya somethin', kid?" he said, poking his forehead with his pointer and middle fingers.

"Um…" Moda said, almost inaudible.

Tommy had walked from behind the desk to the front of it. He sat on the edge of his desk, and leaned his head in to Moda's face. She could smell cigarette smoke on his breath, he was that close. He raised his hand to Moda's forehead as she stared straight into his eyes. She thought he was going to punch or slap her across the face, but what he did was almost as painful. He used his big, hairy, Italian fingers to flick her dead in the middle of her forehead, leaving a big, red mark right where his fingernail landed.

"OWWWW!!" she shouted in pain, her hands instantly shielding her forehead.

"What in God's name were you doing down there, huh?!" he exclaimed, the sudden volume change in his voice making the kids flinch in their chairs.

"I…ah, needed to-" she started

"And you! Why weren't you with her?!" he interrupted, pointing at Claude.

"He was sle-"

"And where the fuck is my goddamn money?!"

"Well, I ain't get to-"

"Shut up, I don't wanna hear it!" he turned around, throwing his hands in the air.

The room fell silent. Tommy plopped down in his chair and swiveled it to face the window. Moda glanced at Claude, then at Tommy's chair. She took a deep breath and stood up.

"I just needed to do some laundry, for Chrissakes! It ain't like I can't take care of myself! So, I gave Claude the day off!" If you're such a big-shot, how come there ain't but one Laundromat in the whole of this damn city?! She said, of course keeping that last line to herself.

"Leave." He said, still facing the window.

"What…?" she asked, fear striking her heart.

"Claude, tell the little runt to get the fuck outta here!"

She grimaced. He made that request as if Claude wasn't presently sitting right beside her. Moda and Claude exchanged glances and he got up and left the room.

"Shut the door." He said softly. She did so.

Tommy swiveled his desk back around to face Moda as he heard Claude's footsteps travel down the stairs. When he heard his feet reach the lobby floor, he rose from his chair and stood in front of Moda. She looked up at him with wide bewildered eyes, brushing lose strands of hair from her face. His hand rose again. She shut her eyes, anticipating what was coming next. What she thought again was going to be a slap, was the tips of his fingers gently gliding across her cheek. Her eyes flashed open and she looked up at him again.

"Makeup, kid?" he smiled, rubbing the foundation from her face between his fingers. She nodded.

"Oh! I was so worried about ya, kid!" he shouted, pulling her into a hug and squeezing her to death. "I really thought some terrible shit happened to you!"

"I'm…fine." She sighed, tears welling in her eyes.

"Now…don't you ever do that again! Jesus!"

"I'm sorry." She said, almost bursting out into a crying fit. "…I forgot to collect the ends."

"Ah, it's alright. Tell you what, we will give that little bastard the rest of the day off and we'll go collect the money together." He released her and smiled.

"O-okay." Moda whispered, wiping her nose.

"But first, change those fucking clothes. They smell like Haitian."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Later that evening…

It was another uncomfortably hot summer night in Florida. The sky was clear, with not a star in sight, and the air was humid and thick. The sun was preparing for another full night's sleep as it retreated into the horizon of the ocean.

Moda had changed her costume at Tommy's request. He was also impressed (and mentally noted) at how a little makeup and a change of hair and clothes could almost change her identity entirely. She decided to dress a little special for a reason. She put on the same shorts she had worn while partying with the Cubans (now that they were clean), a form-fitting hot pink long-sleeved shirt, and some flat neon-purple patent shoes. She unraveled the braids (which had automatically crimped her hair) and left it as is. She then slipped on some earrings and plastic bracelets and met Tommy outside. Tommy stared at her, looking up and down then shook his head.

"You know what, back at home, I was never this into fashion!" she smiled.

"Hmmm, whatever." He said, getting into the car. He'd seen her in more revealing outfits so he let her have this one for free.

Tommy was riding shotgun in the car he had custom-made for his baby girl, fiddling with the dials on the radio. After spending the rest of the afternoon collecting money from the businesses, there was only one more stop they needed to make.

"Hey, hey, hey! Passengers don't get to DJ!" Moda complained as Tommy kept skipping over her favorite stations. Eventually, he settled on VCPR.

"Ugh, I hate this station." She muttered.

"Why?! It's hilarious!" Tommy laughed. Moda stared at him, surprised that he was capable of being amused by something that wasn't violent in any way. Well, violence starts with a "V". She thought.

"So Jonathan, have you been donating to any children's funds? You know statistics show that five to ten thousand children will die each year from child abuse." Said Michelle. (A/N: note that this isn't in the VCPR script, I just made it up)

"I sure haven't Michelle. The children have never done anything for me, so I simply just don't see the point." Said Jonathan Freeloader.. Tommy was cracking up. Moda stomped her foot on the brakes and the car came to a halt. Tommy hit his head on the dashboard.

"Fuck, kid!"

"Seatbelts save lives, it's a fact." She said, stepping out of the car and shutting the door. She walked into the Pole Position with Tommy right on her heels.

Immediately, all eyes were on Moda. Even some of the dancers stopped what they were doing to gawk at Tommy's "new squeeze", according to the rumors. She scanned the inside of the club for Andy. Spotting her, she quickly ran off to the bar while Tommy went to locate Ferrari.

"Ferrari" he called. She was across the room, laughing and stroking the face of a fat greasy biker. She looked up, responding to her name and quickly scurried over in her 4 and 1/2 inch heels to see Tommy.

"Hi daddy!" she cooed into his ear, slinging her elegant arms around his neck.

"Where's the money?" he asked, already growing irritated.

"Oh, it's right here." She said, seductively licking her lips and removing a wad of hundreds from her bra and placing it in his hand. He snatched it, cringing at the disgusting warmth of the money. "Um, daddy?"

"What?" he asked, his frustration showing in his tone.

"Could we step into the office for a minute? I, ah…Need to have a word with you." She said, twirling her platinum blonde hair in her fingers.

"Fine, but make it quick…The smoke in here is bad for the kid's lungs!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

…Meanwhile, Moda was sitting on her favorite barstool, talking it up with Andy.

"Really? You have a bodyguard?" she asked, pouring Moda a cup of Sprite.

"Yep. I also have a custom-made Comet and everything"  
she smiled.

"Damn, you must really be popular on the street to be making that kind of money! You're even wearing less clothing!" Andy laughed.

"…What?" Moda asked. Taking a sip of her drink.

"I mean, you must being going from trick-to-trick! Nobody around here has ever made that much money in such a short amount of time!"

"I don't understand."

"I mean, you got the job right?"

"Job? As what?"

"A prostitute, of course! What else would Tommy be making you do if you're working for him!"

"I'm…not a prostitute!" she said, almost raising her voice.

"You're not? So when do you start here?"

"…huh?"

"What th--, then where'd you get all this nice shit you runnin' your mouth about?"

"What? He buys that stuff for me!" She said, laughing. Andy stared at her in disbelief.

"You mean to tell me that Tommy went out and got you all of this stuff…"

"Yes."

"…And hasn't asked you to work for him yet? I mean, it's been almost three months since you got here."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Moda asked with a scowl. Andy just sighed and shook her head.

"What, you think you the very first broad to fall out of the sky and into Tommy's mansion? Take a look around you!"

"I don't…What the hell are you saying?!"

"What I'm saying is that eventually, you'll end up like one of the poor, soulless females in this club or one of those bitches parading the streets. That sparkle you got in your eyes will fade and be replaced with dollar signs once Tommy gets you working for him.  
Every other month or so, there's another one with no money, no hope and no place to go..."

Andy continued to speak while Moda listened intently,  
sniffling on occasion.

"And the qualified ones are referred to Tommy. After they're whoring or shakin' their ass for about six months, they come to a point in their life when they either want out, or call this place 'home'...Don't look at me like that, I'm sure whoever gave you that card knows exactly what I'm talking about." Andy said, placing an acrylic-finger-nailed hand on her shoulder.

"But…He said it 'wasn't decent' for me to work for him." Moda's eyes were starting to water.

"Honey, it'll only be a matter of time before you turn a proper age. He's just waiting a bit so by the time you have your next birthday, you'll have blossomed into a woman."

"….But, he adopted me! I signed the papers!" she cried some, almost raising her voice.

"Girlie, haven't you ever been taught to read the fine print? That's just some kind of consent form. I don't know exactly what's on it, I ain't no lawyer. Basically you kinda signed your adolescence away, sweetie." Andy said, turning away to wipe the counter behind her while Moda turned away from Andy to wipe her tears.

"…Away." She whispered under her breath.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ferrari slowly strutted into the hallway of the club, leading Tommy behind her by the hand as if he was in no way familiar with the club's layout. Once inside the office, Tommy slammed the door behind him and plopped down in the chair at his desk. Ferrari took a seat in a chair in front of the desk.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Well…" she started, batting her eyes and sucking her teeth like a teeny-bopper. "…Some of the girls and I have been talking..."

"You bitches are always talking, what else is new?" He interjected, not caring if he offended Ferrari.

"We want her."

"Want who?" he asked.

"Her!" she pointed to the wall, trying to indicate that she was speaking of Moda.

"The kid?"

"Yes, your girlfriend. We want her to work with us."

"No."

"Why the hell not?" she asked, careful to watch her tone of voice. "She's adorable! She's got the height of a super-model and her baby face will bring in a lot of money, Tommy. Those sick pedo bastards will love her!"

Tommy just stared at her with his elbows on the desk, his hands folded with his chin resting on top of them. He exhaled, feeling his eyebrow twitch some. He showed no emotion and waited to hear more of Ferrari's bullshit.

"I mean, it's been a while since we've such a tender employee. I know you remember Red, hmm?"

"Yes, I do remember Red." He said thoughtfully.

"Really, I'm sure you're done having fun with _Moe-duh_ so you can just toss her in this…strip-pit."

"No."

Ferrari stared at Tommy in disbelief, amazed that after 10 minutes, she still hadn't gotten his approval.

"I don't understand…It's not like she's your blood, I mean, why in the hell is she so special all of a sudden?"

"Hm." Tommy said, shifting his elbows on the desk. "You have a point, she doesn't have a single damn iota of my blood pumping through her veins..."

"So…" Ferrari grinned, anticipating a "yes".

"But hell no, you can't have my daughter."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

End Chapter

How was that? I thought it was quite lengthy! Is anyone else starting to make connections? I'm trying to get a lot of shit popping off in the story so keep your eyes peeled for even the teeniest of details and slip-ups…that is, if you want to spoil the rest of the novel. Otherwise, just sit back and enjoy!

(PS) Those of you who haven't put an alert on this story yet might want to do so because I publish chapters at rather…sporadic intervals as you may already know. Thanks.


	13. Andy is a traitor

A/N:  
So how was that last one? I thought it was fun writing it and I had a pretty good time. My biggest problem right now is trying to make sure that Tommy remains in-character but yet can still have this "fatherly"  
aura about him (which is pretty much the point of the whole story). Yeah, I looked back on the stories and noticed that there does indeed need to be more Tommy in it. But I can't help it, I have so much fun writing about Moda and Claude on their misadventures. 

And another difficulty, I guess it would be trying to describe outfits for the kids. I mean, it ain't as if I was actually present during the time period which the story takes place so if the outfits seem a little too…modern, I'm sorry! However, it does help that while I write, I ditch my usual drum & bass, and hip hop for some 80s music. The ones that make me ask "where the hell was I, this is the shit!!".

Recap:  
Moda's failure to cover her tracks results in Tommy discovering where she really was (and without her bodyguard, at that!). He disciplines her of course and they go to the last asset to collect the ends for the day…where Ferrari tries to start stuff and Andy lets Moda in on one of Tommy's secrets.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 13: Head Start

"Y-your…_daughter_?! But I thought Merce-" Ferrari stammered in shock. Tommy raised from his desk and reached across it, grabbing Ferrari by her pale, lovely throat.

"No. Your cousin has nothing to do with it." (A/N: get it?! Ferrari? Mercedes? Two expensive-ass cars.)

"But…why…?" she struggled to breathe, let alone ask him that. Tommy, feeling generous and rather sensitive for some reason released her and sat back down to answer her question.

"I love her. She's a beautiful child and has potential. I couldn't ask for a better heiress to my empire and so far, I like raising her."

"What the hell?! How are you gonna let some ne-" Tommy gave her a threatening glare.

"…Kid run your shit?! Mercedes could've easily bore you a child!"

"Yeah and as easily as she did, she hooked em' with a hanger and threw him in the trash! Did she ever tell you about that?!"

At this point, Miss Thang had shut up.

"When I see her, even though I don't see the cute little girl you jealous whores see. I see a maniac, a thinker, a business-girl…likeable and intimidating at the same time…I see myself in a young…female…black body."

Ferrari, feeling defeated and astounded at the information that was just thrown at her, hung her head down and sighed. Tommy raised from his desk again but this time, exited the office.

"This discussion is closed, now get back to work." He said firmly. Ferrari obeyed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Kid! Are you ready?!" Tommy shouted above the music, moans and giggling in the background. He spotted her in the corner with eye-makeup smeared and running down her face. Andy was gently patting her on the back to comfort the teen. He quickly rushed over.

"Hey, hey, kid! What's going on?!" he asked. Moda the Raccoon looked up at him with pink-tinted eyes and wet, sticky eyelashes. She sniffled then looked at Andy. She gave her a quick glance. Don't say anything…Andy told her silently with her eyes.

"Ah…nothing, Tommy." She lied.

"Whaddaya mean, nothing?! You're crying and that eye-goo is cascading down your face!" He turned to Andy, hoping he'd be provided with an answer but she just shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm…I was just…" Moda replied, thinking of something she could bring up that would make just about anybody sad. "…Thinking about my parents." _Yeah, and about how you pretended to be mine…_

Tommy's eyes lowered as he reached out a hand to put on her shoulder.

"You just miss them, that's all, kid." He said, unsure of himself. After all, this was the first time he had ever comforted a crying person. "C'mon, let's go home."

"Why don't you go on ahead," Andy grinned, grabbing Moda by the arm. "She didn't even finish her traditional glass of Sprite!" Tommy gave her a strange look and turned to Moda.

"Yeah! I didn't finish my soda. I'll be right out." She sniffed, wiping her eyes. She knew damn well that she already had at least three glasses in the past five minutes just to drown her sorrows.

"Okay…But put a move on it, it's been a helluva long day and you need to rest!" he scolded, exiting the club.

"What else am I missing, dammit?!" She asked harshly through clenched teeth. Andy looked to her left and right before reaching into the bosom of her dress to pull out a business card with a hand-written phone number on it. Moda snatched it from her hand and read it to herself.

"Why do I need _Ferrari's_ number? I don't like that hoe!" she shouted.

"Shhhhh! Listen, I just told you what Tommy's going to do with you, right?"

"…" Moda nodded.

"So, you might as well call her up. A head-start never hurt anybody. Just don't let Tommy catch you just yet. Don't take it personal kid, I can tell he likes you a lot. But if you can prove yourself, you can really worm your way into his heart and stay there."

Moda sniffled, then hopped off the barstool and left the club. Ferrari made her way across the floor to the bar. She sat down in the very stool that was heated from Moda's bottom.

"Hmmm. I tried." Ferrari sighed, holding her hand out for a drink. Andy prepared it and placed it in her hand.

"Don't worry." She replied, leaning over to whisper.

"She's as good as ours."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

End Chapter

Ahhh…Don't you just love cliffhangers? Again, sorry for the short chapter but I did give you two chapters in less than a week, right? Okay then, stay tuned.


	14. Moda gets the news

A/N:

Yes! I'm back, people! I still browse the system, but have been too busy/lazy, uh..."lazily busy" if you will, to write...Or feel like writing. But anyway, every time I browse, I read the reviews that this story (and Vercetti's Pet) received over the past few years (it was published in 2006, remember?), and with each reading, I become more and more inspired to finish it. That's right, YOU, the valuable readers, are what keep me focused on at least finishing this volume and moving on to the Three-quel (you read correctly! I did say "three-quel," meaning there'll be even more)! But I promise, I'm not gonna short-change you this time by jumping into another volume without stretching this one out a little further. But ANYWAY, while I do intend to finish this story most definitely, you all should know by now that I'm terribly sporadic with the updates. I could post chapters anywhere between one day to many months apart. That's another terrible habit sigh So enjoy! And it's a pleasure to write for you again!

Recap: Ferrari and Andy both have the same "thing" in store for Moda, but have gone about different angles to put their plan in motion. Ferrari goes through Tommy and fails, while Andy goes through Moda and seems to have succeeded so far by trying to convince Moda that she wasn't officially adopted after all. Moda, heartbroken after realizing the truth, does some intense thinking. Who can she trust at this point?

* * *

Chapter 14: Wolves

"_Really_?" Ferrari asked, her lushious cherry lips gradually curling into a sly smirk. "What makes you say that?"

"I told her that Boss Man's been against her the entire time. I ain't think she'd buy it, but she did! Can you believe that?!" Andy squealed with excitement.

"What do you mean 'against her?'" Ferrari asked, her evil grin had flat-lined.

"I _mean_, I told her that the adoption papers she and Tommy signed were bogus, then the kid has a breakdown-"

"_Adoption_?" Ferrari interrupted with another question "What the hell does that mean?!"

"Oh, you didn't know? She's adopted!" Andy told Ferrari who had a shocked and surprised expression on her face. Andy sighed, sarcastically reminiscing.

"I remember when the poor thing just strolled in here. Girl, she was the most pathetic thing I've seen in a _while_...And working in a joint like this, I should be used to pathetic shit! She couldn'ta looked more pitiful if she had a broken arm!" she laughed.

"So, this chick..." Ferrari spoke, only slightly recovering from shock "...what, she just fell on his doorstep in a basket wrapped in a blanket or something?" she said, giggling slightly.

"Oh she _fell _alright. More like out of the sky, _literally_. You remember!" Andy replied, with her arms folded in front of her on the bar counter. "But pretty much the same scenario you're probably thinking of."

"The sky? Pfft! I'll figure that out later..." Ferrari scoffed. "Heh. So now Tommy's treating her like some kinda 'fallen angel?'"

"Damn, bitch! Is there anything you need to discuss that's _not _in the form of a question? You need to keep up with the news, girl!" Andy shouted, walking away from their secluded corner to take customer orders.

* * *

Meanwhile...

Moda, again upset for probably the hundredth time within the past few days, assumed her natural "I'm sad or pissed, so I'm sleeping" position in the passenger's seat of the car. This time, Tommy didn't bother to question or counsel. I mean, how much can one console a person after the sudden loss of their parents, and at such a young age? Then again, it's not like the accident happened yesterday, so crying about it won't change the fact that the dead is well, _dead. _He wondered if there was possibly another thing grinder her gears that she decided against bringing up, but brushed off the feeling. _Women._ He thought. But, he left her alone for the duration of the car ride, however, still occasionally sneaking glances at his ebony-skinned daughter, searching for any signs in her body language that could hopefully tell him something more.

Hurt, confused, viciously angry and upset were only a few adjectives that described how Moda felt. _Tommy...Why would Andy lie to me? I mean, what could _she _gain out of this? _And what was the most confusing was that she was unsure whether or not to place all of the blame on him, or herself. The thought of her possibly being duped by Andy and Ferrari had never crossed her mind; that's just how confused she was. But, until she found out more, she decided to play along with Tommy as if she weren't hip to his scheme. She would also have to act normally, as if she wasn't disturbed. If she were confronted, she would lie so that Tommy would have no choice but to oblige her request not to pry.

Finally returning to the mansion after another eerily awkward and silent car ride, it was time for the "family" to retire and start a new day, hopefully on the right foot as always. But not even a few seconds sooner than Tommy had parked the car, Moda had already exited the vehicle and was making her way up the stairs. But being in such a rush had caused her to lose balance, and one of her shoes, thus making her fall. Unfortunately, Tommy wasn't fast enough to prevent her tender, cocoa skin from being acquainted with the concrete. Now with her inner-frustration boiling over the edge, Moda didn't even bother to pick herself up from off the ground. Defeated, she broke out in a fit of tears.

"_Why?!_" she wailed "Why did this crap _happen _to me?!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Tommy said, rushing over and kneeling down "Moda, talk to me!"

Still sobbing almost uncontrollably, Moda refused to raise her head. This discouraged Tommy some, but he would be damned if he showed it. He had one hell of a night himself, and lost what _almost _was and it stung him too. He just didn't see any reason to cry about it. After a few minutes, they still hadn't gotten anywhere. Fed up, Tommy decided to show some "tough love."

"Alright kid," he said firmly with an authoritative tone. "Listen, this has been fun and all, but it's almost 3 am. Go to bed."

Moda looked up at him, her face smudged with cosmetics, nose and cheeks flushed with a bruised shade of red. She narrowed her brows at Tommy until they were almost touching in the middle. She didn't need to use words in this situation to say "Fuck you," her face made it perfectly clear. This infuriated Tommy even more.

"You know what? I'm starting to get tired of this crap every night! Fucking sick, and fucking tired!!" He yelled, raising up from the stairs. "I'm fucking sick and tired of you bursting out into tears every goddamn night, like some emotional time bomb! Then there's never anything _I _can do about it! What the hell?!

"If you haven't noticed by now, as much as youse' been cryin', your parents are _still _dead!" he continued to yell, his face also turning red. "They died, they're dead, and they'll always _be _dead, so get over it! God, you act like you're the only one in the world who's lost their folks to some tragic accident! _I _can't do nothin' about that, _youse' _can't do nothin' about that, nobody but the big man himself can _ever _do a damn _fucking_ thing about that!"

Ironically, all of Tommy's yelling and screaming had the exact opposite effect on Moda. She smiled at the irony inside. But Tommy was still grilling her down, so she still had a role to play. But hey, if her role is to act completely oblivious to Tommy's true intentions, she'd have play it off with more than just blind anger. _Heh, I'm _so _on to you..._She thought. This thought caused her to only slightly force a smile to creep up on her lips. However, Tommy, having marched back down the stairs away from her, tightly clenching his coarse, dark hair between his fingers, was still on a roll.

"_Il mio dio!_" Tommy muttered in Italian, "_Come risolvo questo?_" (A/N: "My God! How do I solve this?")

It was a wonder how Claude managed to continue sleeping through this, that is if he wasn't already awake.

* * *

Poor Claude. He could drive professionally and at high speeds, he could shoot a pigeon square between the eyes from several yards away, he could even do moderately complicated math at the blink of an eye when he felt like it. But one thing Claude couldn't do, was get a full-night's sleep.

He hadn't done much after father and daughter had left. He walked around the house, familiarizing himself with its layout, he snooped in Moda's room for the hell of it, and entertained himself with some pornography he found in the desk of Tommy's office, but nothing special. What _could _he do? He had no friends, and his family (with the exception of Moda) barely tolerated him.

The keys to every last vehicle (including Moda's red Sanchez) were hidden, and damn good at that. All of Tommy's weapons were hidden as well, and Claude didn't want to waste bullets just trying to kill time (A/N: no pun intended). But when he was finally bored enough to realize he was exhausted, and finally decided to do something about it, he was interrupted by more crying and yelling! _Goddamn it!_

_Fuck, fuck, fuck! _Tommy cursed himself mentally, stepping into his office and slamming the heavy doors shut.

TBC...

* * *

Sorry it's so short! I had just written another story in another Game column and figured it would be unfair to still now work on this one! Thanks for your support, and I'm also trying to think of more dialouge for Tommy, I've been neglecting him lately. But I'll write again (and hopefully a longer chapter), and publish when I can.


	15. Dwayne and Jethro smoking on the job

Author's Notes:

Thank you "Talksyic" for your review (and of course you others), and for inspiring me to finish this story. But because I'm too lazy to get myself caught up in my own work by reading every chapter thus far, a few things are going to change. I seriously hate having to do this, but from here on out, I'm going to keep this story as inconsistent in plot as possible.

SPOILERS!

YES, Andy and Ferrari are still operating in co-hoots to break up Tommy and Moda. NO, they are not finished collecting the money from Tommy's businesses, and at this point, pretend that Moda didn't take Tommy seriously about his "occupation". YES, Claude is still Moda's personal bodyguard and YES, Tommy is still being a dick towards him, however, because Claude is actually reluctant to being around Tommy regardless, I'm going to make him slightly more of a dick, while still being quiet. I am going to try and give Tommy more dialouge and uncover a huge plot twist I'm planning involving Mercedes. Also, I'm giving Tommy more of an edge. While he's enjoying Moda, he's still got shit to do! But I hope you enjoy.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 15 - I Crown Thee...

After having pissed Tommy off with her emotional insecurities, Mode retreated to the lavender-colored fantasy of her bedroom. She cleaned it a little, merely placing things back where they belonged, and sorting clothes into their fitting places, still thinking.

"Maybe Andi's wrong." She thought out loud, but not too loudly of course. "Plus, I don't have any proof, and why would Tommy go through so much trouble, this 'plan' seems a little too elaborate."

She paused in her tasks, then resumed them and her thinking.

"But Andi has been looking out for me...I don't know. But I shouldn't assume anything without finding out more. I should go apologize." She said, walking slowly towards the door. However, the very second before her palm made contact with the brass doorknob, the knob turned and flew open backwards, with Tommy behind it. He and Moda stood, facing each other, staring each other directly in the eyes for a moment.

"I'm..." Moda finally spoke.

"It's alright, kid." Tommy said. Moda opened her arms, and closed them around Tommy's waist. He hesitantly raised his hand and tussled her thick hair with his palm, then stroking the back of her neck with it.

"That wasn't fair, me lashin' out at you like that." Moda said, releasing from the hug. Truthfully, she felt only half-sorry.

"You're right, it wasn't." He joked, half-smirking. "But we seriously have to talk...about the future."

A few minutes later, the two are sitting on the front stoop again. It's very early in the morning, you can almost see the pink edges of the sunrise, making its appearance over the horizon. Tommy reached into the back pocket of his jeans, using his thumb and forefinger to fish a small, metal lighter, and a pack of Malboro cigarettes from it. He flipped the boxy cover off with the nailbed of his thumb, took out a cigarette, and lighting it while placing the cigarette between its lips. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and exhaled with relief. He turned to his left, Moda watching with curiosity and disgust through her dark eyes.

"Shit, where are my manners?" He said, extending his hand. "You smoke, kid?"

"I don't." she said.

"Good, it's a disgusting habit for a woman. If you don't remember anything else, remember that a woman's attractiveness instantly decreases while she's sucking on a square." He said, smiling. Moda still stared at him, and let out a soft yawn.

"Right. Now the first question I need to ask you is, who am I?"

"What?" Moda asked.

"Exactly. Who am I? Who is Tommy Vercetti?" He asked again, taking a long drag of his Malboro. "What do you know about me?"

"Well, you're a rich guy that owns a lot of things." She said.

"But I wasn't always rich. When I first came here, I was about at poor as those dirty ass Haitians." He said, pointing his hand towards Little Haiti. "All of what you see now, was built entirely from scratch."

"Really?" Moda said in shock. "I mean, how exactly?"

"Well, when I was about your age, I fell into the wrong crowd. But long story short, I did fifteen in the joint, got ambushed in a deal for the same family, and made my comeback and then some, when the family demanded a piece of my pie. I've done just about everything you can think of."

"But why?" She asked, thinking she was just 'playing along' with him.

"Why? Why what?"

"Why do you base your life on killing people, and just money and women and drugs?"

"Don't get it twisted, kid. While I was inside, I did think a few times about bettering myself--without breaking the law, that is. But..." He said, pausing for another drag.

"But what?" She sat, attentively.

"There's no use crying over spilled milk." He looked away, Moda watching the wisps of smoke dancing in mid-air before disappearing. "But you do know that this is going to be yours too, right?" He exhaled. "Yeah, I could see it. Moda 'Queen-pin' Vercetti of Vice City."

"Yeah, right!" She scoffed.

"I'm serious."

"No you're not..." She scoffed again, slightly humored.

"Kid, I'm fucking serious. I deal dope, kill clowns and even counterfeit money."

At this point, Moda was less convinced that she was playing along with some kind of ruse.

"What? Mine?! What do you mean?! I figured you owned legitamate businesses, o-or a large share of a company, or a lottery winner or something! I didn't know you were a drug baron, I thought you were joking!" She panicked.

"Well, you know now." He grinned, snuffing out the fiery butt of the cigarette by placing it on the stair they sat on.

"So, people are going to try and kill me too!?" Moda shouted, tears almost coming to her eyes again.

"Of course! You're the princess of the biggest kingpin of Vice City! Your head will always have a price on it."

"But, I can't. I don't have the stomach for it." She said, looking Tommy in his eyes. He lit another cigarette and took a drag.

"You're right. You don't have the stomach for it...at least not now."

"I don't want to do this! I really don't." She said softly..._This is even worse than dancing, there's absolutely no way I can handle this._

"Fuck!" Tommy said, in a serious tone, almost yelling. "You're going to do it, and I'm fucking serious! I don't give a rat's ass whether you want to or not, this is your responsibility now!"

"But why--"

"_Because I said so!_" He yelled, standing up and leaning over Moda. "And if you can't deal with that, I can toss your ass back on the street!"

Moda leaned back, her eyes filled with fear and moist with salty tears that would spill at any moment. _Why did I come here? Why...What am I doing here? _She thought.

"Okay, I'm going to finish collecting the money from my businesses tonight. You go in there, to _bed, _and later today I show you how things work around here. I've been spoiling you up until now, so it stops here. You're not going to be one of these stupid, prissy whores if you're going to inherit what I've worked my fucking fingers to the bone building up. I'll be _damned _if that shit happens."

Still surprised, Moda continued to stare at him. Tommy grabbed her tightly and roughly by her shoulders and squeezed them, staring directly into her pupils.

"_Now_, you're part of my family. You're now a killer, a drug dealer, a thief, an intimidating hustler. So anything morals you have tonight, had better be gone by the time I get back."

He walked down the stairs, and jumped into the white Infernus, and drove off.

Moda stood on the stairs, watching the Infernus leave dark skid marks and dust at it left the mansion. Sniffling, she forced the puddle of tears in her eyes to receded back into their ducts. She plopped back down on the stairs and placed her face into her hands. She barely heard Claude come out of the house and walking towards her, yawning and stretching his arms as far as they would reach. She acknowledged his presence, turning her head towards him, then flashing a phony smile.

"I'm fine, Claude." she said, leaning back to gaze at the horizon.

Claude just nodded slightly, taking a seat next to her. _Not that I cared, but okay._

"How did you sleep?" She asked, not taking her eyes off the sunrise, making its appearance over the ocean.

_You've gotta be shitting me. You mean, 'how _could _I sleep?'. _He thought, but smirked to mask his frustration. _Christ, what the hell happened out here anyway?_

"Tommy named me his heir, is what happened." She said, looking at him. His eyes widened, he looked at her as if she were psychic.

"Didn't you know? I have telepathic powers."

Claude still stared at her, his brown eyes shifting back and forth. _Uh-oh, maybe she knows about the Ben-Gay._

"I'm kidding." Moda said flatly. "You're so cute, Claude."

_You whore. _Claude grimaced.

"Do I have what it takes? To do all of _this_?" She asked herself, but Claude happened to be there.

_Not without a lot of work to do. _He thought to himself. _And with Tommy being your 'coach'...oh man_. He thought again, reminiscing.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Driving towards his Boat Yard with the radio off, Tommy had to admit to himself, he did feel a little bad about how he yelled at his daughter. Especially about threatening to kick her out. But, regardless of their emotions, that didn't change the fact that he still had an empire to operate. He felt his days were far from "being numbered", but better "have and not need, than need and not have". Plus, the thought of one of his "friends" running his businesses straight into the ground, or his enemies claiming his territory and building it up made his skin crawl. He arrived at the Boat Yard, he stepped out, and replaced his cigarettes and lighter back into his pockets.

"Fuck it. She's gotta toughen up." He assured himself, slamming the door.

Tommy sniffed the air, recognizing the familiar scent and saw a few wisps of heavy smoke coming from the garage door of his property. _Shit, I keep telling them not to smoke on the job! _He walked up to the closed garage door, looking for his two property attendants, Dwayne and Jethro.

"Dude, I think I can feel my fingernails growing." he heard a voice whisper.

Pulling a switch, Tommy opened the garage door, freeing a toxic cloud of smoke.

"What the hell?!" Tommy coughed, shielding his eyes from the smoke, and startling the youngsters.

"Fuck!" Dwayne jumped. "Jet, put it out! It's suit-dude!"

"'Put it out'?!" Tommy repeated. "What did I tell you two dickheads about hot-boxin' it around the merchandise?! Shit, it's like a gas leak in here!"

"Sorry dude. We've been here for hours, waiting for you to collect yesterday's earnings but you never showed."

"Waiting? Why didn't you just go home? What have you been doing for the past four hours?!"

Dwayne and Jethro looked at each others' bloodshot eyes, then started laughing hysterically.

"Never mind, just give me the damn money."

END

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Yep. There it is...More coming ahead.


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